


Ring Out the Bells

by Starhallow



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Anthony knows Astronomy not Astrology though 'cause he thinks he is smart, Disaster Bi Benedict, F/M, Gregory Bridgerton has a big ol' crush, I am reading the books instead of sleeping, I wrote this instead of studying, I'll add more characters as we go, Kate and Benedict are friends (They are Art Pals), Kate is an artiste, Kinda, Mild book spoilers in chapter 6, No Spoilers, Now it's mostly ANGST, Polin in the back if you squint, Rambling in the notes (probably), They were horny on main so I had to change the rating, light and fluffy, no beta we die like ladies, or at least it was
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starhallow/pseuds/Starhallow
Summary: Kate and Anthony don't know it yet, but this season in London's ton is the start of everything for them. Anthony is in want of a wife, and Kate wants him far far away from her younger sister Edwina, what could possibly go wrong?I'm shit at summaries. Scenes that could maybe (but not necessarily) complete book 2 of the Bridgerton series. It started as a series of one-shots, but now it has its own plot and it's messy and dramatic.
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield|Kate Sharma
Comments: 287
Kudos: 456





	1. The Smythe-Smith Musicale and all that it entails.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I a tiny bit obsessed with "The Viscount Who Loves Me"? Maybe.  
> Should I be doing other things? Yes, definetly.  
> Will that stop this new need to write cheesy fanfiction? Never.

**The Smythe-Smith Musicale and all that it entails.**

* * *

**K** ate stood in front of the window of the drawing-room of their rented house in London, while Edwina softly practised the pianoforte in the corner. It was a cloudy afternoon, and the people in the busy streets bellow rushed from origin to destination, hoping the cold rain that was surely about to pour wouldn't catch them. She ought to be one of those people soon, she thought, knowing that Newton had yet to have his walk, and that she planned to be tucked far away in her chambers if thunder and lightning decided to pay a visit. 

She turned around and smiled at her sister while she finished playing the Mozart piece effortlessly and smoothly transitioned to another melody. She informed both her and their mother that she would be taking the dog out, leashed her little beast and left the house hoping the sky would be merciful. 

She took her usual route even if she'd have to cut it short that night. She really didn't want to play with fate, and end up stranded somewhere in the _ton_ if the weather turned. Besides, walking all the way to Hyde Park might not be the most intelligent of ideas knowing what time of day it was. They were, after all, expected at the Smythe-Smith musicale.

It had taken Edwina's suitors longer than other days to leave the house, and Kate had been expected to stay in the drawing-room just in case. “Just in case someone calls on you, darling” her mother had said with a soft smile on her face. Just like any other day, nothing happened, and no one came for her. She had been left to her own devices for most of the day. Not that she was complaining, she had used the time to try and finish a watercolour that she had been dragging along with her almost every day. The painting of the view outside of the window of their drawing-room that she was adamant she had to get with every little she could catch: the colourful flowers in the windowsills of the houses around, the happy children always playing with a kitten on the street, the trees, the carriages and the clouds passing above. Kate wanted them all displayed on her painting.

She had been almost certain she would finish it, but then the day had turned grey. Like the mood she had gotten into because of the wretched weather. Had anyone talked to her about the topic as much as she was talking about it herself, she would have already scoffed three to four times. 

Alas, she kept walking along the smaller streets, stoping and examining the buildings she found particularly interesting. Not for the first time she hoped there was a way to capture the moments around her: be it a curious little corner shop full of trinkets and nonsense, or the ever long and never-ending busy roads. She must remember to bring along a pencil of some sort the next time she ventured on a walk. She had taken a piece of charcoal and a small notebook the first few days of the season, but she had always gone back home with her fingers stained, and she had almost ruined one of her favourite dresses. Mary, her dear mother, had said nothing, but Kate had known her eyes had pleaded for her to be more cautious: she couldn't afford a new gown every few days like some members of the _ton_ after all.

She looked up and decided that Hyde Park wasn't in the cards for her that April afternoon. Perhaps if the weather were better the next day, she could take some of her bigger watercolour papers and try her luck capturing a charming scene near the Serpentine that she could take home to Sommerset when the season finished. She wanted to paint as much as she could, take as many moments home with her, even if they weren't her own. She wished to have something of London to show to the imaginary children she felt farther and further away every ball she attended. As if having some kind of proof of her failure of a season should make her proud. 

She made her way towards Knightbridge, planning to turn back home there, spying the birds that played in the trees, and once again missing the countryside she so loved. She ought to have stayed there, she thought as the monster that was her terrible mood emerged from somewhere inside her. No bother having those thoughts, she told herself turning towards the house on the next corner. She had to be home with enough time to prepare for the Smythe-Smith musicale that night, and grumbling by herself in the middle of the street would only upset Mary and Edwina. The last thing she wanted to do was stress her dearest sister.

When she rushed her step just the little bit more, to ensure she did indeed make it home on time it wasn't her intention to bump into the gentleman that was walking on the opposite direction. Not that he had cared to look back to assess the damage the bumping could have caused. This tall, dark-haired, ill-mannered human who seemed to be more concentrated on checking the time of his pocket-watch than doing the bare minimum expected by human decency and checking if the woman he had bumped into was all right. Being invisible in her own home where her sweet sister blinded every man with a pulse with her beauty was one thing and being shoved by a caveman in the street another one entirely. She returned home with a renewed speed to her steps.

* * *

**H** e was late to his appointment with Benedict, and among all things Anthony Bridgerton disliked, he especially disliked tardiness. The promise to see his brother had been made the previous afternoon while they were both passing the time at the club. Their mother had decided the family would attend that horrible spectacle the Smythe-Smiths liked to call a musicale, and Violet Bridgerton expected at least two of her three eligible boys to attend. Since both Benedict and Anthony had been kindly dragged to the past three balls, their younger brother Colin, who had been at home for less than a week had scored one of the two compulsory invitations. That left Anthony and Benedict, whom he was about to meet, and would use any kind of excuse to push his older brother to the waiting arms of their ruthless and loving mother. 

In his haste, he did bump into a lady in the street, but since his mother wasn't in the vicinity to chastise his lack of manners, he rushed to the meeting point without looking back. His brother was already waiting for him. “You are late.” He said, “Two more minutes and I would have proclaimed myself the victor”.

“Yes, yes, yes” Anthony answered. “Heads or tails?” He said, taking a coin out of his pocket.

“Heads.”

Anthony tossed the coin in the air, caught it in one of his hands and turned it to the back of his other.

_Tails._

“Yes!” He cheered.

“Two out three!” Complained Benedict, “You did arrive late after all.”

“Fine,” Anthony grunted tossing the coin once again.

_Tails._

“Yes! Lady luck is on my side tonight!” Anthony said.

“Fine,” Benedict answered. “But you will attend the next whatever she chooses to attend with Colin, and I, dear brother, will be free as a bird.”

“Nothing, and I do mean nothing Benedict, can be worse than the Smythe-Smith musicale. Have a wonderful time.” 

“I will see you at White's tomorrow,” Benedict said.

“You will see me at White's tomorrow.”

* * *

**K** ate walked through the halls, looking for the powder room, or for any excuse to stay very far away of the second act of the worst musicale she had had the misfortune to hear. Refreshments had been brought out while the Smythe-Smith daughters rested between songs, and the house had become rather crowded. Kate hoped, for the sake of everyone involved that someone on the household had the good sense to stop the second act before it began. Those poor girls. The only thing that would ever make the music worse would be if Kate herself chose to accompany the singers with her flute. She, of course, had better sense than to do that.

She walked aimlessly until she found Penelope Featherington sitting in a corner by herself. Penelope's mother had chosen tangerine for her to wear that night, and that terrible choice added to the overwhelming ruffles that adorned her decolletage accentuated her rosy cheeks in the most unflattering way. Kate only hoped Lady Whistledown would wake up feeling magnanimous the following day, and left the poor girl alone. Had she known, Kate would have worn the pale yellow dress that made her look _like a singed daffodil_ and offered herself as a sacrifice of sorts.

“Miss Featherington,” Kate said when she had walked close enough.

“Miss Sheffield,” Penelope answered. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“It has been very different to what I expected, for sure.”

“Is this your first Smythe-Smith musicale?”

And the last, for better or for worse, Kate thought. “Yes, it is our first season in London, and we had never had the chance to attend before.”

“Oh, well, there will be more time for musicales during the season. This one is quite unique, it stands out every year.”

“I only hope Lady Whistledown is kinder the next time she publishes. Those poor girls. I don't know if I could handle a review of tonight's songs if I were them.”

“You read it, then?”  
“I do, yes. Like all of the _ton_. I think she is seldom wrong even if she is very harsh sometimes.” Kate said.

“She is known for putting all of us in our place.”

“I wish I knew her” Kate said suddenly, “I think she'd make the most enjoyable company, and we all need a friend who can be completely honest with us. Wouldn't you think?”

“Honesty is important,” Penelope said quietly, “her way to go about it, however, isn't the best, I don't think. For her to be a real friend I mean.”

“Maybe, especially when some people confuse intelligence with malice it would be like befriending Cressida Cowper.”

“Ah, you've met her then.”

“She had the nerve to snicker at my sister. I don't appreciate when people are unkind to Edwina, she is the sweetest person I know.”

“She is lucky to have you as a sister,” Penelope said, but before Kate could reassure her new friend she saw Lady Featherington walk through the hall as if looking for someone.

“I think your mother is looking for you”.

“Oh no.” Penelope had slouched and turned even paler than she could.

“I'm sure you could escape if you made a run for it,” Kate said, and Penelope rushed away.

Kate slowly walked back to where she supposed her mother and sister were, stoping for very few moments to look at the art on the walls. She was admiring a painting of three women in a garden when a tall, dark-haired man stepped beside her. He was also examining the painting with what seemed special interest but he had not attempted to introduce himself and Kate didn't know if she was expected to introduce herself. So they stayed silent for some minutes, both looking at the painting that kept them from returning for a torturous act two.

“I am hiding from my mother.” The man said, and Kate had to scold her mouth not to smile. Grown men who ran from their mothers always amused her. “I have a feeling that if she sees me near a woman, she could, maybe, possibly let me be.”

“Ah,” Kate said, “a match-making mamma, is she?”

“The most persistent one.”

“Then I shall shield you for another moment, sir. I too, have one of those, you see. Thankfully she is usually more entertained with my sister.”

“Mine is also, usually more entertained with my brother, but you see we tossed a coin. And here I am, and here he is not.”

Kate smiled. They stood for a couple more minutes, until Kate sensed a kerfuffle to her right, and sure enough, some of Edwina's most devoted suitors had found her and were making their way towards her, of all people. “Excuse me,” she said to the man, “but I think my sister's idiot suitors have decided to haunt me for some reason.”

She didn't wait for an answer as she rushed in the same direction Penelope had before her.


	2. The Mess You Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate officially meets Benedict and the become Art Pals. What could possibly go wrong?
> 
> (A lot, a lot goes wrong)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This chapter is long.  
> 2\. Let's pretend there's more time between Newton's adventures in Hyde Park and the Bridgerton Musicale, so this chapter can happen.  
> 3\. My knowledge in art 1/10; My knowledge in regency art 0/10  
> My knowledge of English titles: whatever Wikipedia tells me.  
> 4\. There is one (1) swear word in this chapter (maybe, is "shit" a swear word, because I don't consider it in my language, anywho).  
> 5\. Possible trigger warning for excessive alcohol consumption. There is also a teeny tiny deviation from cannon  
> 6\. I haven't read book 3 so no Sophie, don't @ me. Is writing this fanfic and studying or reading book 3 and one of the other two.

**The Mess You Make**

* * *

**  
L** ike at every other ball she had had the misfortune of attending that week, Kate played in the shadows of the refreshment tables, and divided her time between the shortest bits of socialization and checking the art of the house they had been invited to that day. She had lost Edwina to her personal hive of drone flies as soon as they had arrived, and she had left Mary with Lady Bridgerton soon after. If the Bridgerton matriarch was around, it would only mean that her eldest, and rudest son the Viscount would buzz towards Kate's sister sooner or later. She hadn't had the ill-fated chance to see him at the ball yet, but Kate just knew he had to be around. He always was around, with that smug face of his.

She checked the ballroom when the first notes of a waltz started playing, and saw Edwina dancing with some other bloke who had been quicker than Kate's nemesis. “No waltz for you” she murmured, “not today, Bridgerton”. Where was he, anyway. He had been in every social gathering for the past two weeks, prancing around every venue as if he owned them all, dancing the two songs that decorum would allow with Edwina. Yet, he was surprisingly, mysteriously, missing from that one ball. Well, excuse Kate for being suspicious and not biting. He must be up to something: be it raking around with his rake friends and becoming even more of a rake; or wrapped in a plot so rakish Kate could never imagine it. It had to be.

Invoking the devil so vehemently did, however, warrant some kind of punishment. For Kate, when the devil himself was nowhere to be found one could never disregard that even the Prince of Hell had brothers.

“Miss Sheffield!” She heard a voice say, as a tall, dark-haired and green-eyed menace approached her, “Miss Sheffield!”

“Mister Bridgerton,” she answered bowing as little as she could without offending anyone.

“You simply must meet my older brother,” he told her squinting mischievously. Right, the older brother, another one, she reminded herself. “This,” he said signalling a man behind him, “is my brother Benedict. Brother, Miss Katharine Sheffield.”

“Kate. How do you do?” She said bowing once again.

“We've met, actually” the older brother said, “she was my mamma repealing shield in the Smythe-Smith musicale.”

“I was, a pity I couldn't catch your name then.”

“If I remember correctly you had left rather hastily.”

“I'm sure it happens when your sister proclaims she steems your opinion that much,” Colin Bridgerton interceded.

“Oh yes,” she said, “I blame it all on her.”

“Your sister's “idiot suitors” I believe you called them.” the older Mr. Bridgerton said.

“Yes, every single one,” Kate answered. Colin barked a laugh so loud several of the people around them turned to see what was happening.

“You were right Colin, I do like her,” Benedict said trying to hide his own laughter, “would you like some lemonade, Miss Sheffield?”

Kate pondered the best way to decline the offer. Then again, if two of the three Bridgertons were there with her, the third idiot might as well be in the ballroom with Edwina. It was, no doubt part of the Viscount's convoluted plan to keep her distracted while he charmed her dearest sister. “I would, actually.”

Benedict offered her his arm and Colin followed them close behind. She was relieved to see Edwina dancing with Nigel Berbrooke – a sentence she had never thought would cross her mind- and not The Rake himself.

“I am curious, Miss Sheffield,” Colin said, “to how you shielded my brother from our mother so efficiently, that he's had the past two weeks to himself while Anthony and I had to attend every social event instead. And of course, if you would extend me the same kindness.” He looked at her directly in the eye for the last part. Oh how Colin Bridgerton loved to push the conversation to the brink of indecency. “You see, our mother has a rule,” he continued, “at least two of her bachelor sons have to accompany her each event, and I have been punished long enough.” No devil that night then, Kate thought, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to leave.

“I only enjoyed the artwork on the walls for a moment. I would enjoy artwork by your side Mr Bridgerton, but for some reason I doubt you could distinguish a Buttersworth from a Crome and that may as well break our sham apart.”

“You paint then Miss Sheffield,” Benedict said hiding his grin and distracting her from his brother's mischievous face.

“Every once in a while.” She answered, but left the brothers soon after, when she saw Mary looking for her.

“So,” Colin spoke to his brother, “do you think she'll ruin him.”

Benedict laughed. “Oh, Anthony won't know what's hit him.”

* * *

**T** he only thing he had wanted in his life for the previous two weeks, was a break from Miss Katharine Sheffield. Anthony wasn't a greedy man, Anthony considered himself a good man. Actually, Anthony thought that after becoming the head of the family at eighteen; after taking care of his mother, and siblings and estate; after the nightmare that had been the previous year with the entire Daphne and Simon mess; that he, the good man that he was, had the right to spend a night without his mind betraying him with thoughts of Katharine Sheffield.

It wasn't that his evening had started badly. He had spent part of the evening at White's with both of his brothers. He had told Benedict that he had to go to whatever ball their mother had decided to attend that night, he would call on the other Miss Sheffield, the nice one, the following day and make up for the progress lost that evening. It would be fine. Nothing would go wrong. What could possibly go astray? It wouldn't.

He would visit the florist that usually delivered flowers to Bridgerton House and buy two bouquets. The most expensive ones for Edwina and another one for Mrs. Sheffield. It had worked for Simon when he had tried to win his mother over, and it would surely work for him. Anthony Bridgerton was nothing if not at least as charming as Simon Basset. He poured some whiskey and sat in his preferred chair.

He should buy flowers for Kate.

No. Damn. He would not think of her. Edwina and Mrs. Sheffield. Two bouquets of expensive flowers, that was it. He was expected al Parliament first, and he really hoped whatever nonsense the Irish Lords were in town to discuss didn't take long. In his mind, the sooner it was over, the sooner he would be wherever the Sheffields lived and the more time he would have to charm Edwina. The more charmed Edwina was, the sooner she would agree to marry him, and Anthony could close that chapter of his life and concentrate on whatever came next.

He should talk to his mother about the family rings too, it wouldn't do to not be prepared. He also wanted to make time to meet some of his friends from Oxford, he should write a letter to Simon. He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands and drank from his glass. There was little that could beat a quiet night at home with some of the best whiskey in London.

Maybe Kate would like some roses.

No. Anthony. Lord. Maybe some daisies, at most. He would buy her some stupid daisies and then it wouldn't be reasonable for her to feel insulted because her mother and sister had flowers and she didn't. There. Enough of Katharine.

When the following day Anthony Bridgerton left the florist's with a nice bouquet of perfect pink roses for one Kate Sheffield, he told himself, repeatedly, that it had been because he hadn't seen any daisies on the front of the shop.

* * *

**I** t was one of the few truly sunny days Kate had had the pleasure of experiencing since they had moved to London for the season. The sky was clear, the sun was warm on her face and it hadn't rained in the past couple of days, so the ground was dry. She had finally convinced Mary and Edwina to go for a picnic in Hyde Park after the debacle some days prior. Newton was sleeping with his belly up, securely strapped to the tree she was using as a parasol while she painted in one of her bigger watercolour papers. Penelope Featherington, who was enjoying the good weather with her family next to where Kate's family had decided to spend the day, had been a darling and lent her a discarded easel Lady Featherington had brought with them.

“I don't know what she hoped,” Penelope had said, “none of us are good painters, and we aren't as dense as to try it in public.”

She had thanked Penelope profusely and placed her paper so she could work better. She focused on capturing the ducks on the Serpentine -Oh, how the river mocked her. The view was breathtaking, and she really wished to take something to remember it by to the countryside once the season finished.

“Miss Sheffield!” she heard in front of her. Benedict Bridgerton hiked the small distance that separated her and the trail below, “Mrs Sheffield, Miss Sheffield,” he said to her stepmother and sister. He was accompanied by another man that Kate didn't know.

“Mr Bridgerton,” she said bowing.

“I was hoping to meet you today,” he said, with the infectious smile that all Bridgertons (she was sure) possessed, “you must introduce me to the beast that bested my brother.”

“Oh, no,” she said, “I assure it was an accident. Your brother seems to think I had some kind of master plan to make his afternoon miserable, but I assure you ...”

“None of that, Miss Sheffield,” he said, “Anthony is a big boy, he should manage.”

“In that case,” she said. Bridgerton's companion, bored of waiting, made the short hike to join them, “that is Newton.”

Benedict covered his mouth with his hand, and his laughter with a cough. “Bested by a corgi, I cannot wait to tell Colin.”

Kate bit her lip and schooled her face not to smile. The other man coughed. “Oh, sorry, how unpolite of me, Miss Sheffield, this is my friend, Mr. Henry Grandville. Mr Grandville, this is Katharine Sheffield.”

“Kate. How do you do?” she said.

“How do you do, Miss Sheffield? Benedict has told me of your passion for painting.”

“Oh, I am sure Mr. Bridgerton exaggerates.”

“Looking at this watercolour I'd say he downplays your skill. Did you not say she painted every once in a while?”

“That is what she told me, but apparently I underestimated her.”

“Do you paint with oils, Miss Sheffield?”

“I have never tried.”

“Benedict should bring you to the studio sometime, if your mother allows it, of course,” Kate was sure she couldn't have imagined the momentary horror in Benedict's face, “for luncheon may be, there's usually less people, it's better for beginners.”

“If Mrs Sheffield allows it,” Benedict said, “I will send word.”

“Of course,” Kate answered, and bowed as both men left. Benedict stopped next to Newton, crouched to his level and gave him a nice pat. Kate swore she heard him saying the words “good boy”.

* * *

“Wait! So you are taking her to the studio?” He heard Eloise complaining. His morning in Parliament had been short and Anthony had decided to spend some time with his siblings.

“If her mother allows it,” Benedict answered.

“But I have asked to go to the studio with you at least a million times and you said no every single one of them.”

“Because mother has not said yes,” Benedict said entering the drawing-room where Anthony had decided to read the paper.

“Have you asked her? I bet you haven't asked her. I shall go and ask her.”

“Eloise, you are not invited, so you would ask in vain.”

“Hyacinth,” Anthony whispered, hoping he would be able to stay out of it, “what is this about?”

“Benedict won't take Eloise to his friend's studio but he is going to take another girl. Unchapperoned.” The last part was concealed horribly, his youngest sister couldn’t differentiate between the value of gossip and the value of silence, it seemed.

“You are such a tattle tale, Hyacinct ...” Eloise started.

“We are not going unchaperoned, I am taking a friend to a painting group for beginners. Enough of that,”

“But I should like to go,” Eloise said.

“No, I think you should like to stay,” Anthony answered, and that was all he needed to know about that situation. He had heard about the parties and the excess that one could find in the Granville's house after hours. Benedict was a grown man and could do as he pleased, but he would throw himself to the Serpentine before letting any female he cared about near that studio in the evening.

Would Kate be home at this hour or would she be out with Newton? He looked at his pocket watch and chastised himself. He only needed to know if she would be a bother while he called on Edwina, that's why he thought of her. That's why he always thought of her. At all times.

He decided he needed some air.

* * *

**W** hen Mary had entered the drawing-room triumphantly shaking a letter like a pastor would a Bibble, Kate had been suspicious. When she patted Newton on his head Kate knew trouble was looming in the distance. The distance, it seemed wasn't very long.

“You have a caller,” Mary had told her, “Benedict Bridgerton would like to take to his friend's studio.”

“Yes, but you won't let me go.”

“Whyever?” Mary said.

“You need to stay here with Edwina, there's no chaperone,” Kate said. It was obvious, why hadn't Mary thought of the obvious.

“Oh, well, Annie can be spared the rest of the day, and the letter does say it will be a group activity.”

“How exciting, sister!” Edwina had said. So it had been settled.

So Kate found herself standing outside Mr Grandville's house with Benedict Bridgerton and one of their maids, who had been as confused as Kate had been to be spared for the rest of the day. “I only brought my brushes,” Kate babbled suddenly, “I don't have any oils or canvas of my own.”

“Do not worry,” Benedict said, “there's always enough for everyone.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,”

“Please, call me Benedict.”

“Benedict, it was very nice of you to bring me here.”

“I thought you could use a distraction from all the comings and goings of your house.”

The door opened that instant and a smiling Mr Grandville ushered them in.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mr Grandville,” Kate said.

“Please, call me Henry. Everyone here does anyway.”

“Then you must call me Kate.”

“Splendid, follow me, my dear. We shall find an easel for you.”

The house was like nothing Kate had seen before. Rich coloured walls and paintings of every size adorned the walls. The high windows let large amounts of light in, and formed a luminous scene tainted with so many hues of the rainbow, that Kate found hard to describe. It was like they had been taken to a different world, an oasis full of colour in the eternal sea of grey the _ton_ often was. Kate didn't have the country, but that day, for a few hours, she could escape. People sculpted or painted in every room, even if most of them were empty.

“Most people come in the evening,” Benedict said behind her. She looked up and smiled.

“Thank you, for bringing me.”

“Do not thank me yet, you may still be rubbish.”

“Oh, I expect that,” she said laughing.

Henry took them to a room full of flowers surrounded by easels and gave her a canvas and some oils on a pallet. “Try to get your colours by mixing these four, the white and the black,” he said, “it's better to train the eye that way, and your bill for paint will be cheaper in the long run.” He winked.

She chose a vase of roses that had been placed right in front of her, and started the process similar to the way she would her watercolours. Henry or Benedict would chime in every once in a while to try and guide her. It was a disaster. She would constantly take too much product on her brush, and struggle to blend it afterwards. Because the paint she was using was thicker than she was used to every line she draw was too thick. Her shades were also horribly wrong, and when she'd gotten halfway through she had known there was no way of saving anything for her to take home.

“Well,” she said, “that looks absolutely nothing like the roses,” and huffed for good measure.

Henry and Benedict both laughed. “You are concentrating too much,” Henry said, “you place your brush with too much intention. Take it closer to the tip, take less paint and try again. And stop sticking your tongue out like a kitten.” Kate laughed and pretended not to see the way Grandville's thumb played with the hair on Benedict's nape. When Benedict turned to her with a tense expression, however, she smiled wide for her friend. She wasn't an idiot, villagers in Sommerset would gossip about what some men would get up to like the members of the _ton_. So she might have suspected, but she didn't know, and Benedict was good, and he was nice, so she didn't care.

Her second attempt was better than the first one. The roses on her painting were lighter than the ones in front of her, and for some reason they weren't as open as the ones she had for reference, but she liked them much better. The man sitting to her left kept stealing glances at her painting, she hadn't caught him yet but she could feel him. It confused Kate, the only time she had felt someone eyes on her was usually when Viscount Bridgerton glared at her from the other side of the ballroom. He would be at her house she'd recon, today would, after all, be the perfect day to charm Edwina, without her there to interfere. Her brush slipped and ruined one of her roses. “Rats,” she said.

“Here,” the man beside her said giving her a rag, “if you clean it quick enough you may be able to fix it.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Phillip,” he answered.

“Kate.”

“Lovely to meet you, Kate.”

His hair was dirty blond and his eyes were a kind shade of green, a far cry from Colin Bridgerton's mischievous ones. He had a straight nose and chapped lips, which she guessed must be from bitting into them as he was at that instant. His accent had been different to the ones Kate had heard in her time in London so she supposed he was from elsewhere. ‘What a handsome face’ she thought as she returned to the roses that looked more and more like the ones she had in her room. Like the flowers in her room. The ones Anthony Bridgerton had given her. The ones she kept with especial care because those were the only ones in the entire house that had been bought for her. She pursed her lips and contemplated starting over, but she would just have no time. Speaking of time, what time was it? She looked around for a clock. Was that the modiste in the hall?

“Benedict,” she heard Henry say, “it may be time to take Kate home?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. Kate frowned, and Benedict put it out against his shoe, “it is really too late now.”

Kate neatly stored the supplies she had been using and looked sadly at her unfinished painting. “You should just come and finish it another day,” Henry told her.

“Thank you,” she said smiling. She followed Benedict out after saying goodbye to Phillip, collected Annie somewhere along the way and walked at a quick pace until they stood outside a house.

“Come in, we shall borrow one of Anthony's carriages and have you home in no time.”

“Your brother's house?”

“Yes, this one here,” he said dragging her up the stairs.

* * *

**A** nthony was angry: angry at himself, angry at the world, angry. Anthony was also very, very drunk. There was just no explanation for his own idiocy. He had gone to the Sheffield's house with chocolates -because one could buy chocolates for an entire family and he would avoid spending unnecessary money buying extra whatevers-, Nigel Berbrooke had greeted him outside and told him that, apparently, the older Miss Sheffield was not in the house. And for some stupid, idiotic, unexplainable reason, he had turned around and gone home.

So yes, Anthony was angry, but specifically, Anthony was frustrated. With his mind, with his body, but especially with a certain part of his anatomy. He knew he wouldn't survive another restless night, and he knew that the only person at fault in that scenario was one Katharine Sheffield. She drove him so far into madness that he had started picturing her in his dreams. That would end that night. Siena waited for him in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs -the first one they had found had been fine for the both of them- while he got some more whiskey, two mistakes he would possibly regret the following morning. The morning was not now, however, so he rushed downstairs. The soft light of the parlour caught his attention. He squinted his eyes for a moment, why was there light in the parlour?

He turned on his heel to investigate, and he shook his head for he had clearly gone crazy. Kate was not standing in the parlour of his house while Sienna waited for him in the bedroom. No. What had he done to be punished in such a way?

“What are you doing here?” He asked. Great job Anthony, no greeting, straight to the point. You may deserve whatever is happening.

“Lord Bridgerton,” she said, “we were just waiting for your brother Benedict, I think he left to ask for a carriage,” she said, gesturing her maid as she talked. Katharine and Benedict together were a strange duo, he had to admit, but if her maid was there her mother must have given permission and … The conversation he had had with his siblings that morning came to him. Benedict had taken Kate to the studio.

Benedict had taken Kate to Henry Grandville's studio.

Benedict had taken Kate to Henry Grandville's studio, by herself.

Why would Benedict have taken Kate to Henry Grandville's studio by herself?

Anthony had heard the rumours, he had been told of the parties, and the drinking, and the sex. Anthony knew that his brother enjoyed spending his evenings and nights there, but to take a young lady? Even if said young lady was Katharine Sheffield? No. Unacceptable. No.

Kate?

Kate in a studio for hours? Whatever did she do? Pose? He shook his head again to get that very tempting image out of his head.

“And what, pray tell, are you doing with my brother?” he said. He was annoyed. Kate Sheffield was in his parlour and he was annoyed about it. Why did she have to spend the afternoon with his brother, when London was full of other men. No. That wasn't better. Shit.

Kate turned to her maid, “We went to his friend's studio for luncheon.”

“And whatever did you do there?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What could you possibly do in that studio with my brother? Paint? Is that what they call it?” He had aimed to hurt her, he knew, he had done it on purpose, so why did something break inside him when he saw how he had insulted her?

“You smell of alcohol and cheap cologne, my Lord,” she said, “I think you should retire for the night.”

“Ha, you should know about cheap cologne,” he murmured as he left her there, “how can someone smell so much of lilies...” he never found the ending of that sentence on his way up the stairs.

“Kate, I got the carriage,” he heard as he left, “Kate? What happened? Annie, what happened? I'll talk to him Kate, don't worry he's just an idiot. No Kate, please don't cry.”

Great, another regret for the morning.

* * *

**S** he should have stayed home the following day. She had been hurt, and insulted, and Annie had been raging on her behalf and had promised to give the Viscount the least nice pastry in the morning if he called for Edwina. But when the invitation for tea in Bridgerton House came, signed by the Duchess of Hastings she had been encouraged to go. Mary had known she was upset, but then again, it had rained the previous night so she could blame that if she wished.

So she had been taken there, and she had had tea with the ladies, and at some point Colin had appeared with some watercolours and placed them in front of her. Then Eloise had begged her to paint something, and Daphne had loved the painting she had made from the view of the drawing-room so much, that she had gifted it to her. Bridgerton House she wouldn't want to remember, she didn't think.

During all that, a very rough-looking and dishabled Viscount had arrived. The whirlwind of events that happened in the following minutes had placed her in front of Grandville house with almost half a dozen Birdgertons and very little patience. First Benedict had said how he was expected in the studio, and suggested he would drop Kate home on the way. Then, Daphne, who had been talking about visiting Henry Grandville to check on the restoration of her own portrait, had decided she would like to go then. So of course, Eloise had complained that everyone got to go to the studio and she had to stay home, and Anthony decided he would accompany them there. Colin just went because he could feel the storm brewing.

When the doors opened and they all entered the house in order, Kate asked if her canvas was where she had left it and walked straight there. It took Anthony a couple of hours to find her in the almost empty room. He wanted to talk to her, she knew. He had been fidgeting to get anywhere close to her since he had seen her. “Miss Sheffield, you should come see the painting in the other room,” he said.

“I think I should like to stay here with my vase,” she answered, not checking if he had left or not.

“Was he bothering you?” Phillip asked her from her left as he cleaned a mistake with a rag, “Do not mind him,” he followed, “he has got too big a mouth and too small a brain.”

Kate giggled despite herself. “You know him, then?”

“Our paths have crossed. He grumbles more than he talks if you can believe it.”

Kate laughed out loud.

* * *

**H** e only wanted to talk to Kate. Just once, for a few minutes. He just wanted to apologize for being a horrible caveman. Really, he would leave her alone after that. Instead his own brothers had taken every opportunity to talk to her, and now she sat painting stupid plants with bloody Phillip Perceval -who had become the bain of his existence in Parliament-. He really had to do something about it.

Not needing Kate's approval to marry Edwina was one thing, to treat her the way he had was entirely another. The fact that he had made her cry broke something in him. Yet another reason not to pursue her. What? No. Edwina. Edwina was the Sheffield he wanted. Blimey.

He waited for Daphne to finish whatever she needed to finish. He waited for Eloise to stop exploring around. He waited for Colin to finally get bored of teasing him for his hangover. He would wait for Miss Sheffield to finish her painting. And he really really hoped he could wait out Benedict shooting daggers at him every few seconds.

“All right, out with it,” he told his brother when they were alone.

“You were horrible yesterday. I don't care what happened, where, when or with whom, she didn't deserve being treated that way. She almost cried on her way home, and we had to convince her maid not to wake her mother up and ban you from the house. So whatever excuses you are making in your mind, just know, they won't stand. I get that you don't like her, but if you plan to marry her sister, the least you can do is act like a decent human being.”

“I know. I was drunk and she really does drive me crazy, and when I saw her and realized that she had spent the afternoon here with you I,” he stopped for a moment, “you know what happens here after dark Benedict.”

“I had her hear in broad daylight but sure, whatever makes you feel better.”

“I'm not saying I wasn't horrible to her. I was, and if you just let me talk to her I will apologize. Really I … I was drunk and I don't know what came over me. I just truly can't stand her.”

“Sure, Anthony, kept telling yourself that.”

He took the only chance he would have to talk to her when they took her back home. He was the last one to get inside their crowded carriage, and he had sat beside her. It was not only polite, but a necessity to dismount from the carriage and help her down.

“Miss Sheffield,” he said sincerely, “I want to apologize for my behaviour last night, I had had too much to drink, and very little sleep and I behaved appallingly. I truly am sorry for the way I treated you, and for the words I said, I shouldn't have done it.”

“I really don't know how you expect to recover from this, My Lord. You must know there is no way I can endorse any kind of interest you may have for my sister,” she said as the walked up the stairs.

“Tonight, Miss Sheffield, the only thing I hope to recover is your forgiveness. Even if I have to dive in the Serpentine to find it.”

“It is like you said,” she said, “you were intoxicated, and you didn't mean it.”

“On my honour, I did not.”

“You still have to make up for it Lord Bridgerton.”

“I expected nothing else, Miss Sheffield,” he bowed, lower than he had ever bowed for her and left for the carriage.

He had to get his head on straight. He couldn't afford those kinds of mistakes.

Not with Kate.

Because of Edwina, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, just wow.  
> Thank you for all the love and the support on the first chapter, I really hope chapter two measures.
> 
> It is really late here, so the last part may be further edited tomorrow. I also upped the drama a little for this chapter, so let me know what you think, because the way chapter three is planned it could be like this one or maybe slightly more dramatic. It really depends on the playlist for the day.
> 
> This chapter is way longer than the previous one so let me know about length as well, because I can break chapters into two if I'm having too much fun (like today).
> 
> Thank you once again for all the lovely messages!!


	3. Could Sour Turn Sweet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Kate are horny on main, basically, so I had to change the rating.
> 
> This chapter begins in the middle of the musicale in Bridgerton House (wink). Well, right after Kate and Anthony have a chat in his study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what's happening anymore. This story has a mind and a will of its own and I'm just trying to write it all down.

**Could Sour Turn Sweet?**

* * *

**Y** es, Anthony was an absolute idiot.

He leaned against his writing desk, his eyes firmly fixed on the door in front of him. He made the mistake of taking a deep breath and smelt them, the bloody lilies that surely wouldn't leave him for at least another week. It had been that way for the past … Anthony didn't even know how long, who knew one could find so many lilies whilst walking through London? The scent would attack him every time he walked near a florist's, or as he passed an unsuspecting house, when he crossed paths with a hopeful suitor holding a bouquet, and every time, without a fault, his mind would conjure the image of Miss Kate Sheffield.

He couldn't have her. He knew he couldn't have her. Nevermind the infatuation his body had developed for her, or every way she would intrude his thoughts when it was most untimely. He had wanted to keep her away, to take her out of his immediate memory, so he had aimed to keep himself occupied.

He had invited Sienna over the other day, it had been a foolproof plan when he had thought of it, even for a fool like himself. When that had clearly backfired, backfired horribly as it did, he had pretended to fall asleep as his former lover was still trying to engage him in the intimacy they had both once enjoyed. He had sent her home come morning having blamed his foul mood in the terrible headache he nursed. He had apologized to Miss Sheffield the following day and that had been that. Right? Wrong.

He hadn't seen Kate since that day. Well, that was not entirely true. His eyes would always find her over his dance partner's shoulders, always to the side of the ballroom, very rarely dancing in it. His ears would zero in on her voice, or the laughter someone – his younger brothers, usually – provoked. His mouth would always dry if she happened to be anywhere near him, it was still never close enough. The only sense that had been free of her had been his touch. Until now.

Until the moment whatever ruled his soul had taken the ill-advised decision of taking her out of his system, by having her as close as she would allow him.

He should have known it would never work. His skin had been the only piece of him free of Katharine Sheffield until he had lost control, and now … Now every hair in his arms, every line in his hands and every fraction of his lips knew how it felt to caress her. He had gambled with lust and bet on himself in a game he had been unaware was fixed. And he had lost. My, had he lost.

He hadn't spoken to her in the past days, not until a few minutes ago in the very study he was still standing in. He had schooled his mouth to silence end kept his feet firmly on the ground as not to be near her. Anthony was nothing if not persistent once he had made a choice, and since he had decided to reroute his thinking to any topic but the aforementioned lady, that is precisely what he would do. And he had hopelessly, irrevocably failed.

He raised his hands and vigorously rubbed his face. Why the heavens was she the sister of the woman he had planned to marry? She could have been anyone else, he needed her to be anyone else. A different girl: a silly debutant that would giggle when he walked by her, any young woman too aware of her riches and beauty, or one of those adolescent ingenues that could never aspire to interest him, no matter how hard they all tried. He would pay good money for her to turn into Cressida Crowper overnight if only to rest from his constant hunger of anything Kate.

If staying away proved meaningless and his witless plan for saturation hadn't worked, what was he to do? He pushed himself away from the desk and looked for his glass tumbler and whiskey. One drink, only one drink. He sat in his chair and threw his head back, damning the lingering scent of lilies; how he was yet to abhor it was a mystery to him.

Then it hit him: he really hadn't been oversaturated by her. Not truly.

Kate had the very special talent of igniting every little fibre of his being, and yes, once he calmed down his ideas evolved and presented her as the object of his deepest desires. Whenever he talked to her for more than a few minutes, however? Whenever she contradicted every word out of his mouth, and when she made it her personal mission to prove wrong every sentence he uttered?

He had been playing the game all wrong. Anthony had never needed to stub out the physical reactions of his body, he had been attracted to different women before Kate Sheffield, and he would be attracted to other women once Miss Sheffield married or left for the country. No. He just needed for her to annoy him enough and enough times, that any childish infatuation he might feel for her would die, swift and pain-free.

Lord, he was smart. 

* * *

**A** ir. What a whimsical concept for the one struggling to pass it in and out of their lungs. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, no matter how many times she scolded herself. “You may have one more moment,” she told herself. She couldn't afford being seen just outside his office, flushed as she was. There would be questions she couldn't answer. Her eyes fluttered open, she focused on a fixed point on the carpet and she tried to control her senses.

There was a sturdy door against her back. “Breathe,” she told herself. Her hands travelled from the door to the front of her dress and felt the soft silk she was wearing. “Breathe,” she said again. The pounding of her own blood in her ears overpowered the soft music that sifted through the walls. “Just calm yourself, for Christ's sake,” she blasphemed, pressing her back further into the wood behind her. She regretted the deep breath she took as the scent of that woman's cheap perfume mixed with the sweet cedar smell she always associated with him. Her mouth watered again. Damn her thoughts and damn her body.

She had to move or she would be discovered, Mary would wonder about her whereabouts, or a Bridgerton would come looking for their brother. Even worse, the Viscount could open the door any minute and find her there. She used her gloved hands to dry some of the sweat the skin of her neck and nape had produced, but found them lacking: they weren't his, after all. She shook her head to rid herself of the memory of his hands on her. “Best forget about it,” she whispered, “it will never happen again, anyway”.

Oh, who was she trying to fool?

She turned on the spot and opened the door of his stupid study. He hadn't moved, she noticed, he was still leaning against his desk, and she was in front of him in three long strides. Her hands found his cheeks before he could react and pulled his lips down to hers. She could have sworn the world stopped turning when they touched. Just for a moment, it was sweet and soft, like the calm warmth of a bath just drawn, or the soft ray's of sunshine in the middle of winter.

The spell broke, and an unknown spark light the embers she had barely put out in the hall outside. The world started turning again, and Anthony moved with it. His hands found her waist and pulled her to him, grabbing at the material of her dress. His mouth turned hungry on hers, only pealing away from her whenever it became impossible to breathe.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and scratched his scalp with her nails until a low groan escaped his lips. She closed her fingers and pulled. She took advantage of one of the moment he let her lips go to kiss his cheeks and slowly travel towards his ear. His hands roamed the distance between her waist and her neck, pushing her chin upwards so his teeth could attack her jawline.

“Good God, Kate,” he said, “you'll be the death of me”. Kate whimpered in his arms while he twisted their bodies and hoisted her to his desk. He pushed against her knees, and she opened her legs on pure instinct, the need to have him as close as he had been before fanning the flames in her body. His hands found the hem of her dress and slowly pushed it up, until the material barely covered her knees and his fingers found the soft flesh of her thighs. She leaned back and waited for him. Lord, she felt hot.

Kate sat up in her own bed. Alone. Thank God. She took her left hand to the top of her head while she looked around and battled to control her breathing. She was in the house, and it seemed the day was breaking. Newton snored in his own bed beside the already extinguished fire. She was home, and she was safe, she reminded herself.

She had collected Mary from the drawing-room claiming she hadn't been feeling well. “You do look flushed,” her stepmother had said, “and you feel warm, even through my glove,” she had followed touching her forehead. They had rushed home soon after, and gone straight to bed. So why had her stupid brain conjured those images in the time that was supposed to be only her own?

Kate felt warm, and she knew, just as she had known the night before that it had nothing to do with a fever. She walked towards the basin in her room, wet a towel with the freshwater from the jug and dabbed it on her forehead and chest. She wet it some more and drenched her hairline and back when whatever was making her skin feel like flames wouldn't disappear. She opened a window hoping some fresh air would do the trick.

What time was it? Why wouldn't that uneasy feeling leave her? She had to have paced the width of her room almost a hundred times by now. Newton barked from his bed, probably annoyed with her constant fidgeting, and a wonderful idea formed in her head: a walk would do. She'd go outside, she'd breathe the fresh air, maybe the morning mist would freshen her face and the uneasy feeling would leave just as it came.

She walked to her closet and took one of her day dresses out. She plaited the brown locks the hairstyle she had worn the night before had left in her hair, and attached a simple bow to the end of her hair, before taking the first bonnet she could find and urging Newton out of his bed. She needn't a maid with her, she decided, it was surely awfully early to bother them while they prepared breakfast and lit the fires. Mrs Gaywood – their housekeeper – caught her as she planned to leave, however, and insisted to walk with her.

“It's not proper for a lady to run around by herself, Miss,” she told Kate, “and I wish you had rang for help when you woke”.

“I did not sleep very well, I just wanted to clear my mind a bit.”

“Something worrying you, Miss?”

“The season feels longer than I thought it would, that is all,” she answered. Mrs Gaywood gave her a sweet smile and softly tapped the hand that wasn't holding Newton's leash. Kate had been prepared for the agonizing nights of the _ton_ in London, or so she had thought. Then, she hadn't anticipated Anthony Bridgerton vexing her to the point of being unable to have any other image in her mind. She hadn't thought she would have to comb through so many of Edwina's suitors to sort the bad apples away from the worse.

Her life had been simple in Somerset, the kind of simple a young lady with an iota of grandeur would find terribly boring, but Kate had liked it well enough. Liked the miles of green grass leading to and away from their small home. Loved telling stories to the children of the town. Felt content in the idea that she would return after a few months in the city, maybe find a soft-spoken man she could marry and have a small family of her own.

It had somehow changed. She couldn't truly pinpoint the second she had started to hope that she would somehow be allowed to stay. It would still be impossible for her to explain why her heart toppled over at the idea of not having an excuse to come back.

Rats. Now her uneasy feeling had transformed into something else that she hated even more. Maybe she just needed to walk a little faster.

“Miss Sheffield!” she heard behind her. _Oh heavens_. She half expected one of Edwina's stupid suitors, and was utterly wrong. “I am sorry to disturb you in your morning walk, Miss. We have not been formally introduced, but I hope you remember me, nonetheless”.

“I do,” Kate said smiling. Phillip she remembered, he had sat to her left both times Benedict had taken her to Granville's studio. He was dressed formally, and had taken the time to brush his blond hair, she had almost forgotten how handsome he was. His jaw was a touch too soft and his eyes were green instead of brown, and … dear Lord, why on God's good Earth was she comparing him to Anthony Bridgerton?

“I saw you at the Bridgerton musicale, last night and was looking for someone that could introduce us,” he said “I hope you do not find this horribly improper, but I thought I saw you as I left my apartments today, and I just could not lose the chance. If you wished, I would like to introduce myself”.

Kate was sure she heard Mrs Gaywood squeal. “Of course,” Kate said.

“Phillip Perceval, Baron of Arden,” he said as he bowed lower than any man had ever done for Kate.

“Pleased to meet you, Lord Perceval,” she said with a bow, “Kate Sheffield.”

“A true pleasure to meet you, Miss,” he answered offering his hand, so that she could place hers, and sweetly kissed her knuckles, “ I hope you do not think me too forward,” he followed, “but could I have your card? I am afraid my day is full with meetings in Parliament and I will be unable to call on you this day, but I would like to see you some other time”.

“That,” Kate said. Wait. Whatever was happening? “would be lovely, but I am afraid I was in a rush this morning and did not take any of my cards with me”.

“I have some, Miss,” Mrs Gaywood said. Would you look at that.

Phillip took one of the cards Mrs Gaywood practically threw at him and left with a polite goodbye and a kind smile.

* * *

**T** here was a limit to the nonsense Anthony Bridgerton tolerated from the members of Parliament, a threshold for the stupidity he forced himself to endure in his club and a line drawn for the number of people he disliked that he would talk to every day. All three had been surpassed before midday that morning, so he made his way to Bridgerton House and recoiled in his study with a glass of brandy. The weather had turned, and the warm, shy sunshine of the morning had hidden behind clouds that didn't threaten rain, but darkened the afternoon. Most importantly, the sad climate outside prevented him from opening the windows and finally ridding himself of the insufferable lily scent that still lingered.

He had made plans to visit the Sheffield house that afternoon. Maybe, if he left early, no other suitors would have arrived by the time he got there, and the steep hill to Edwina's good graces would flatten quicker. He walked the stairs to the informal drawing room to tell his mother he was leaving, but as if summoned by Anthony's thoughts, Benedict jumped into the conversation.

“Are you going to visit with the Sheffields?” Benedict asked.

“Yes, why?” Benedict never visited the houses of eligible girls, he had always been the master of avoiding the forming of wrong ideas.

“I think I should like to go.”

“Why?” He said, ignoring his mother's eyes as she stared him down to silence.

“Because Kate is my friend and I want to see her. I have not seen her since before Mother's party.”

“It was a musicale, darling, and you would have seen her there had you attended,” his mother said. She had yet to forgive her second son's absence from the myriad of ruffles and feathers that night.

“I will go change. Wait for me,”

“I do not understand why he wants to come,” Anthony complained sitting beside his mother, making himself a cup of tea.

“Miss Sheffield is a brilliant girl, dearest. Your brother could do much worse”. Yes, yes he could, but that was not something he was ready to admit.

“They are friends, Mother, there is nothing there.”

“Marriages have been built with less”. Anthony choked on the tea he had just sipped on.

"What are we talking about? Eloise said walking in.

“Katharine Sheffield,” his mother answered, “she is just the loveliest girl, do you not think Eloise?

“She is incredibly sweet. Penelope told me Kate always makes time to talk to her at balls. She is also very bright, I shared quite a long conversation with her the other day and I'll say I have still to find someone I would like to chat with more than her. Excluding Penelope, of course.”

“Her dog threw me to the Serpentine. I had to fight the chills for three days.”

“I am sure you somehow deserved it,” Eloise answered taking a biscuit from the tray and winking at their brother who had just arrived. It didn't occur to Anthony until much later, that their mother hadn't contradicted his younger sister.

“Did you have to bring an entire shop worth of supplies with you?” Anthony asked while they waited for the carriage to be brought around.

“Kate does not own any oils, and I am not going to start painting with watercolours. You are being overdramatic, there is not that much of it”.

“We could have left on horses if you had not have to transport all of that,” Anthony checked his watch, “Now there will be traffic, and we shan't get there before the rest arrive”. He could have sworn he heard Benedict murmur ' _the rest of the idiots_ ', “something to say, brother?”

“Clearly you expect me to have better manners than to show unannounced and empty-handed?” he said instead, nodding to Anthony's very empty hands.

“I should have you know I plan on buying some flowers, there is a shop close to the house”.

“Lilies?”

“What? No. I have never sent lilies.”

“Oh, I assumed.”

“What did you assume?”

“Just, I went to your house two nights ago,” he said.

“Yes Benedict, I invited you, I remember.”

“Well, I saw the sad lonely lily in a vase near the window and thought you had taken it out of a bouquet you had given to Miss Sheffield. It would have been mighty romantic of you”. Damn it all. He should have left the stupid flower in his room like he had wanted to do in the first place.

“No, the florist almost added it by mistake,” Anthony said through his teeth, “he was going to have to throw it away, so I took it”.

“Home?” his brother was certainly testing his patience, “you could have left it in the bouquet, it's not like a single lily would ruin whatever you ordered for Edwina.”

“No”. Anthony growled.

“Oh, whyever?” Benedict said innocently. Or at least he tried to.

“I just do not think they suit Miss Sheffield”.

“No, I do not think they do.”

Anthony ignored the grin in his brother's face all the way to the Sheffield's. Just like he had predicted, they ran into traffic and were severely delayed because the florist had needed longer than usual. By the time they had arrived, the drawing-room was full. One of the newer suitors awkwardly read poems while the rest waited. Mrs Sheffield and both girls raised when they saw the Bridgerton brothers appear. Mrs Sheffield made sure the seat beside Edwina was vacated for him, and turned to Benedict with a wide smile.

“Would you care for tea, Lord Bridgerton?” Edwina asked politely.

“I have had just had some, thank you,” he answered.

He looked around the room. Some other unremarkable man Anthony ignored the name of, was trying to rope Edwina into conversation. On the other side of the room, Kate looked wide-eyed and smiling to a blank canvas Benedict had brought her, and Mrs Sheffield was having trouble containing her excitement. Anthony watched as Benedict gave Kate a box of paints and a maid brought another stool so they both could jump on to them and paint next to the window. He leaned back on his seat an brought a hand to his lips with the intention of covering the fact that they were pursing.

“It is a pity how the weather has turned, would you not say Miss Sheffield?” he asked in a moment of silence. Surely that was an easy topic of conversation.

“Yes, I hope it does not rain,” she answered, looking out of the window.

“Did you have plans for the afternoon?” He asked.

“No, Kate does not like the rain.”

Well, he couldn't very well convince Edwina to marry him if Kate Sheffield was their topic of conversation now, could he? He had to find something else.

“Your mother told my mother that you had been ill, I hope you feel better now.”

“I do, much better. I was very disappointed to miss the musicale at your house, Kate and Mama both said it was lovely.”

Anthony almost choked on air. “I am glad they enjoyed themselves.”

“I should thank you for the beautiful flowers,” she said, “we had them on that table as long as we could,” she followed pointing at the table at the very centre of the room with a small smile, “we changed them today”.

The table in the centre of the room no longer hosted the nice bouquet he had sent, a rather obnoxious vase filled with orange and yellow lilies stood in its place. If Anthony were being completely honest, it was the kind of arrangement he expected to see at the Featherington's, not necessary in the Sheffield's sitting room – decorated more to his own mother's tastes with light blues and purples.

“Does your family rather like lilies, Miss Sheffield?” he asked.

“Not particularly, no.”

“Oh, I thought, since there are some over there,” _and your sister has the horrible habit of smelling like one_ , he added to himself.

“Oh no,” Edwina beamed, “those are Kate's,” her eyes turning soft.

Kate had had flowers delivered.

Someone had delivered lilies to Kate.

A man, that was not him, had sent flowers to his intended's house.

Not to Edwina – whom he planned to marry – to Kate, but why should that matter? Why would someone have lilies delivered to Kate? Why hadn't he thought of that? He was such an idiot.

“Someone sent them for her two days ago, but she took the card upstairs and she won't let me read it,” Edwina followed almost sounding annoyed, like Eloise would when she knew she was missing good gossip, “I was terribly cross with her, but there is only so long one can be annoyed with Kate, I am sure you understand”.

“I beg your pardon?” He spent the majority of his time cross with Kate Sheffield, whatever did she mean?

“You have seven siblings, I am sure you cannot stay angry with them for very long.” Well, he didn't know, Benedict was really making merits to break the previous record, acting like an idiot to the other side of the room. He had two brushes in his mouth, and whatever he was telling Kate had her squirming in her seat (and that was a visual he really didn't need when Edwina was two feet away).

“I am happy for her, really,” Edwina continued, “I have not seen her so excited with the prospect of a ball since the beginning of the season. Mrs Gaywood – our housekeeper – was present when they met apparently, I heard her gushing about how romantic it all was to mother”.

He needn’t hear more of that, he decided. Mrs Sheffield rang for more tea and he stood to make himself a cup and take another one to Benedict, even if the bloody idiot didn't really deserve it. It was the perfect excuse, however, the perfect way to get himself oversaturated with everything Kate Sheffield and finally move on. He took two cups and added a splash of milk to each of them. “Here you go,” he told his brother.

“You are my favourite older brother,” Benedict said taking one of the cups out of his hands.

“I am afraid I do not know how you take your tea Miss Sheffield,” he told her gently.

“Thank you Lord Bridgerton,” she told him barely lifting her eyes from her painting but smiling softly, “I do not really fancy any this instant”. He swallowed the need to tell her that he would fetch her all the tea she could want at any moment, and somehow managed to return her smile. He carefully inspired and let the maddening fragrance of lilies and soap wash through him like warm water on a cold day.

He subtly looked at her over his brother's painting, searching his memories for another moment when he had seen her so relaxed, so in control. Her head would tilt left and right every few seconds, and the soft curls that had freed themselves from the restrain of the tens of pins she certainly had in her hair, caressed her neck as his lips had in his study.

He couldn't see what she was painting, but Anthony was sure he had never seen her so focused. Her eyebrows crinkled in the most peculiar way and her soft pink tongue peeked between her teeth. He couldn't think about how he knew what her tongue felt like – or indeed how it would please him to push it back to her mouth with his own – when they were with her family and his irritating brother.

“Miss Kate!” a woman, who Anthony assumed was the housekeeper rushed into the room loaded with quite a large square package and took him out of his musings, “this was sent for you”.

“What is it?” Kate's mother gushed.

“It looks like a painting,” Benedict offered, elbowing Anthony on the ribs.

“It is,” Kate said tearing the covering paper away, “My painting,” she said, unveiling the roses she had been working on that day in the studio. It was, for what Anthony could see, quite good.

“How lovely, darling! They look just like the ones you have in your room, the ones you will not let die”. Anthony's heart skipped a beat. Had somebody else sent her roses? Somebody had sent her lilies – he would never forgive himself for not doing it himself – had she thrown away his roses as soon as they had come back from the musicale? Or were they the same ones he had given her? Why on Earth do you care, Anthony?

“Did Grandville send it to you?” Benedict said when he saw Kate pick a smaller card that had been stuck between the painting and its frame. “I told him I would collect it myself, the next time I went to the studio”.

"I do not know,” Kate said, putting the painting away and opening the card.

“No, the Baron sent it, I'm sure of it,” the housekeeper – Mrs Gaywood – said, “the serving boy that brought it was the same one that brought the lilies”.

The Baron? Which Baron?

“The Baron?” Mrs Sheffield squealed.

“Miss Gaywood, you are a terrible gossip,” Kate chastised reading the card.

A Baron? Who did Kate know that was a Baron?

His eyes crossed Benedict's for a second. The moment Benedict reached across and took the card from Kate's hands, Anthony thanked the heavens for not giving Kate any brothers, and blessing him with plenty.

“Hey! Benedict give it back.”

“You know a Baron?” Benedict asked, “We know the same people, who do you know that goes to Grandville's and is a … Wait. Perceval? The Baron of Arden wants you to go paint with him in Hyde Park?” he sent a mischievous look Kate's way and loudly whispered, “Does he not know what happens to the unsuspecting men you take to Hyde Park?”

Blasted Phillip Perceval and the very small part of Ireland he owned.

“Bridgerton, give me my card back”.

“First tell me, are you going to go?” Kate's hand grabbed the very loaded brush she had left on the corner table, “do not you dare, Kate Sheffield you shall have to answer to my mother.”

“Give me my card back”.

“Tell me if you are going to go paint scenes with the dear Baron of Arden in Hyde Park.”

“I do not know”

“Of course she will,” her mother said delighted.

What? No! She'd clearly prefer to do something else. Why wouldn't they let her do something different? She could maybe, go for a ride, or take her stubborn dog for a walk. Alone. With a maid. He could go and make sure nobody bothered her if she so wished it. Anthony really didn't see why Kate had to spend an afternoon painting some silly composition with stupid Phillip Perceval if she were more inclined to do anything else. Edwina, who had moved when the excitement started, sighed beside him.

“We could arrange a group activity,” Benedict said. Anthony bit his tongue. _Et tu Brute?_

“I don't know ...”

“We could! We will have food and games, a solitary easel or two if someone wishes to paint, I can bring Eloise and Penelope, even your sister can come!”

Mrs Sheffield gushed about the wonderful idea, when Kate reluctantly agreed. For some reason, her brown eyes found his when she said so, and he felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. Was she really so apathetic towards the entire thing? Because Anthony couldn't see how forcing her to spend the afternoon with a man she barely knew would end well for anyone.

“I guess if Edwina and Penelope are there,” she finally said, “and Eloise also comes. If we can take some sweets and make a day out of it, then we could all go.”

“Fantastic!” Benedict said standing up, and grabbing the arm that was rather forcefully holding his now empty cup of tea, “I cannot believe we lost track of time, we promised our brother we would see him this afternoon,” he said pushing Anthony with him, “did we not, Anthony?”

Had they? “We did”. They said their goodbyes to all three Sheffields, promising to send word when they had contacted – blasted – Lord Perceval and they had arranged date and time of their small fete. Benedict never freed his arm until they were safely inside their carriage and on the way to White's. Anthony assumed they were going there at least, he was sure they hadn't promised to meet with Colin.

Once inside, sat in their preferred table, each with a brandy in hand, Anthony resisted the need to hit his brother with the paper someone had left behind that afternoon.

“You should be thanking me,” Benedict had de audacity to say.

“And why should I be thanking you, oh brother dear?”

“Because I turned Kate's courtship call into a large group party to which, you are, of course, invited. Then you can glare at Lord Perceval for the longest time, seek the dog on him for all I care.”

Anthony grumbled. His displeasure with Perceval had nothing to do with Kate. Fine, the Baron's interest for Kate had only a bit of effect in his displeasure with Perceval. Damn the lust that somehow had managed to control his brain: there were other factors that computed to his hatred for Phillip Perceval conjointly to his sudden interest in one Kate Sheffield. The man was a disgrace in Parliament and that had nothing to do with the way his treacherous body reacted to Kate.

“It will be grand,” Benedict said, “we will invite Eloise, even Daphne could come! She likes Kate, you know? And since she is old and married, she could chaperone and Kate's mother could stay home. Simon will be great fun, to us at least, I can’t fathom how he could let you be. I will send word to Penelope ...”

“What about Penelope?” Colin said materializing out of thin air, as if something had called him to his brothers.

“God! Colin! We should put a bell on you!”

“Do not be daft, I was on the other side of the room. What about Penelope?”

“Benedict wants to invite her to a very exclusive party he is hosting,” Anthony said. Two birds, one stone and all that.

“Why?” Colin said turning on his other brother, pining Benedict with his green gaze.

“Because I like her,” Benedict said smiling, “even more important, Kate likes her and since the party is for Kate ...”

“Is it her birthday? Should I bring a gift? I am going to the party.”

“No, she was invited to paint in the park with a suitor ...”

“And you crashed that and turned it into a group activity?”

“Yes.”

“Good man,” Colin said tapping his shoulder.

Benedict laughed and Anthony rolled his eyes opening the paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there is an overabundance of Anthony POV in this chapter. Why? Because this is the first half of the chapter that just wouldn't stop growing and I had to stop myself at some point. I was afraid I would rush the second half and not make it justice (like I hopefully will), and I really don't know if a 10K+ word chapter was the smartest upload. So we spend more time with our favourite dumb-dumb this chapter and I promise you more Kate on the next one.
> 
> This chapter has been a beast. I had a bit of a writer's block and, it took me ages to find the direction for it. Like I said, it's not even the full thing I had planned, so we will be adding a couple more chapters to the final total I'm sure. 
> 
> I should also warn you that I really really need to study for my exams, and that as much as I'm enjoying the uploads and the feedback I should, for the love of all is good, study more than I have been doing this past week. So updates may be slower.
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful feedback!! Keep it coming!!


	4. You, The One I Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: writes acetone into a 1814 story  
> Also me: Googles when acetone was invented.  
> Also me when it says it was invented in 1838: bastard!
> 
> Yes, the title is a Hadestown reference :D

**You, The One I Left Behind**

* * *

**B** enedict had sent word the following day promising to arrange what he called a “little get together” in two days time. Mary had been delighted for her daughters. She had properly squealed, however, when an invitation for herself had arrived asking for her presence at tea signed by Lady Bridgerton. No bookie had anticipated the unlikely friendship that was slowly forming between both families, but alas, both matriarchs seemed to enjoy each other's company too much to care.

Edwina had made it her mission to follow Kate almost everywhere, always asking about the Baron, inquiring about every little detail in every conversation he and Kate had shared. Kate had compared her to Newton with a bone. It didn't help that when Kate complained about it to Mary, the answer she received was, “that's how you are whenever she has a caller.”

When Kate woke up two days later, she sat on her bed for a little longer than she usually would. Soft light entered where the curtains in her room didn't cover the windows, and she could hear the maids running along the halls. Her eyes were set on the pink roses on her small dresser. All the roses the Viscount had given her except the smallest one in the bouquet that she had placed inside a particularly big and boring book to dry. They had withered the previous week, but she was reluctant to throw them away, they had been the first flowers she had received after all. They reminded her of a simpler time, a time before the kiss that plagued every dream she had had since it happened. Kate hated the fact that no matter what she did, no matter how tired she was before going to sleep, no matter how many pages of her favourite books she reread, her mind would place her in the Bridgerton hall the moment she closed her eyes. She hated that no matter what she always opened the door of the study, and always ran to his arms.

It was humbling almost, realizing how little she actually knew herself. Admitting that the only reason it annoyed her when Edwina talked about him had more to it than she was ready to accept. Knowing that no matter what she could acknowledge about her transforming feelings, he had chosen her sister as the target for his affection. Kate would never let anyone break Edwina's heart, and she would chew her arm off before doing it herself, even if it meant breaking hers.

The Baron had been a gift from the heavens, she was sure. A good looking, nice man. One that was interested in her and could potentially take her far away from London. She would probably be expected to visit her sister if she were a spinster in Sommerset, but having a sea between them would excuse her from almost every social gathering. Time would help, so would being blind to the comings and goings of the _ton_ , and somehow – and sooner, she hoped, rather than later – her heart would stop twisting at the thought of Anthony Bridgerton's brown eyes.

She should really throw the roses away and replace them with the lilies.

The morning was uneventful, they spent more time choosing Mary's dress for tea than they did choosing theirs for the outing and when the butler finally walked upstairs to remind them of the time the clock had barely reached the hour.

“Viscount Bridgerton and Miss Eloise Bridgerton are here ma'am”.

“Of course, let them in,” Mary said and then she turned an accusatory finger to Kate, “behave today. Please?”

“I always behave.”

“Katharine.”

“Fine, I shall be on my best behaviour.”

“The Viscount and Miss Bridgerton,” the butler announced, and all three Sheffields rose to greet them. Mary offered them tea, which they didn't take, and they all readied to leave at Anthony's insistence.

Kate called for Newton who ran to her, but refused to be leashed until she raised a threatening finger to him. By the time she got downstairs, Edwina and Eloise were already walking a few feet ahead, which left her behind with Anthony and their maid Annie – who remembered the Viscount all too well and was glaring from the back of the group.

“How are you this afternoon, Miss Sheffield?” he asked.

“I'm well, and yourself?”

“I am well,” he said smiling as Newton walked back and forth between them, “did you have to bring the beast?”

“Of course, one never knows when they'll have to throw someone to the river”.

“So you admit it then, your planed to humiliate me that day?”

“I really do not think how I need to plan for anything, my Lord, you do a marvellous job left to your own devices”, she answered. He still smelt like smoke and ink, and that delirious cedar scent that tempted her to stick her nose in the crook of his neck. She reigned herself in, of course, she was sure it would be the scandal of the season: Katharine Sheffield sticking her nose where it doesn't belong.

“Are you excited for today?” he asked, almost gruffly. The change in his mood surprised her, he had been politely smiling before. Maybe, he had promised to behave just like she had.

“Yes, the day is beautiful and it has been just too long since I last saw Eloise and Penelope”.

“And there is the Baron”. He said.

“Oh, yes, I suppose there is”. Truth be told she wasn't as excited about Phillip as she ought to be, but she wasn't going to tell him that. He would use it to embarrass her in front of the rest of the group. “Do you know him? Lord Perceval?”

“We have met before, yes,” he said, “I can't say we see eye to eye in most debates in the house of Lords – which I'm sure you should like about him – but I have met him”.

“You do not know that,” she said before she could school her tongue.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You do not know that I would take Baron's side over yours without knowing what was the topic of debate, much less the arguments for and against,” she told him.

“I thought you would do so based in principle alone,” he said softly smiling again.

“I am rather fond of my principles Lord Bridgerton, I wouldn't change them just to spite you”. His smile broadened. “Now, I would, however, research whatever the argument was and counter every point you could make if I thought you in the wrong”.

“I should expect nothing else, Miss Sheffield,” he said. They turned towards Hyde Park, finally catching up to the younger girls ahead of them. They were both whispering about something or the other, when Edwina walked to her sister and took Newton's leash away from Kate. Whatever Eloise had said in response to the robbery of her dear pet had Edwina laughing with her head back. Kate giggled at the two of them and shook her head, it wasn't often that her younger sister could let loose and be her uninhibited self out of the house.

“I think we have made a terrible mistake,” Kate said looking sideways at Anthony, “I think they mean to burn the world down”.

“I wouldn't put it past Eloise,” he said, “but, I bet they shall calm down once they have stuffed their faces in chocolate. Benedict brought enough food to feed a small army.”

“No he didn't!” she said shocked.

“Oh, he did. It serves him right for inviting Colin”.

“Well, we all know he would come if the name Penelope was uttered away from chaperoning mammas”.

He barked a laugh. “Do me a favour,” he said, “do repeat that exact sentence with him present.”

“I shall do no such thing!” she laughed, “he needs to come to terms with it on its own”. Just like she had to come to terms with the fact that Anthony Bridgerton was actually not as bad as she had thought at the very beginning. Just like she had to admit that his crooked smile made her stomach flip and she had to stop herself from overanalyzing his ever long eyelashes.

He sighed. “But that will take years!” he said. She laughed at the exasperated look on his face. “I should have to find a way to accelerate it along, for Penelope's sake”.

“You will do no such thing or you will achieve the opposite,” seriously, men, “you may gently (and I do mean gently!) guide him to his conclusion but never tell him, or he'll bolt”.

“You know much about my younger brother,” he said.

“No, I know about having a younger sibling that is the opposite of myself. Edwina is much the same way”.

“I thought your sister did whatever you thought was right,” he said. It occurred to her that she should validate his assertion and use that opportunity to remind him that his attentions to her younger sister were unwelcomed. Even if the line between the reasons why blurred and blended every second.

“Only if she feels it's right. She does have a mind of her own, my Lord, a good mind. For the harsh reputation I uphold, she is often a tougher critic. She may not voice it the same way I do, but whatever she says, she means ”. She took pleasure in the light scolding, she had given him. If he still planned to marry Edwina at the end of the season, he had to make more of an effort getting to know her, or they would both be miserable, and Kate wouldn't be able to bear it.

Anthony guided them through the paths until Kate saw an excessive tent in the middle of a clearing. As promised, easels had been set around it, and she swore she could see the pile of food in the distance. Anthony snorted at her horrified face.

“Yes,” he said, “Benedict went all out.”

“Why?”

“Beats me”. He sounded annoyed. It didn't surprise her, he was absolutely right to be annoyed. “He used his own money so I could not complain about it”.

“It's just wasteful”. The words escaped her mouth.

“Will raspberry macarons placate you? Our cook made them today”. He walked towards the tent and turned when she talked.

“Macarons?”

“Yes, raspberry, they are your favourite, yes?” He offered her his hand.

“Yes, they are,” she said taking it. She leaned on him to walk the slight hill to towards the tent. His hand was warm in hers, even with both having their gloves on, and his grip was firm and sure on hers. Newton greeted them with a series of happy barks, tugging on Eloise's hand, the spell broke and they let go of each other.

Kate made her way to the Dutchess of Hastings and greeted her first. Daphne Bridgerton, unlike her brothers, was always nice to her, she never teased or tried to put her in the spot like Colin and Benedict would. She was also, very kind every chance she saw Kate, always taking the time to enquire about her and ensuring she felt welcome. The Dutchess had seemingly placed the watercolour Kate had given her in her home office, claiming it livened the place, so Kate promised her a pick among the ones she had painted during the season should she want them.

“Just don't ask her to duet with you,” Benedict said when he approached them after talking to his brothers for a moment, “she's rubbish at the flute”.

“Benedict!” Daphne said embarrassed of her bother.

“You have never heard me play,” Kate said.

“No, but I do not hear denial out of your mouth”. He turned away and bumped Edwina's shoulder with his knee on his way to the table of sweets. Kate pretended not to see them giggle.

“I just started learning how to play,” Kate justified herself.

“Of course, no one should expect perfection from a beginner,” Daphne said glaring at Eloise seated beside Edwina on the ground. Colin stood up and gently jogged towards the path where Penelope had arrived with her maid. Kate bit her lip and looked down at her hands, and Daphne covered her giggle with a cough. Benedict, however, roared from his spot near the table and Eloise followed suit.

It was amidst the laughter that the Lord Perceval arrived with two other gentlemen whom he introduced as Lord Donoughmore and Lord Forbes. After that, it was all a flurry of food and easy conversation. A joke was cracked here and there, and the gentlemen shared stories of Ireland as if it were a magical foreign land. It was a perfectly pleasant afternoon, and yet, Anthony Bridgerton frowned for most of it.

Kate could feel his gaze on her, almost studiously, through the entire first part of their gathering, but he would always turn his head if she tried to look back at him. Well, if he was going to be in such a foul mood why would he even bother to go? Really. He was sprawled on a chair with a glass of what Kate supposed was either brandy or whiskey, glaring daggers to the nice man that was playing a game of letters with Penelope. Then again, so was Colin. He would turn and glare to the other man politely talking to Edwina – the reasoning for that to be jealousy as much as Kate disliked it. Poor Lord Perceval was the one receiving the burnt of his ire though, every move he made, squeak that left his lips were met with sharp words, and that was just ridiculous.

Absolutely fed up with the constant shortness of the Viscount, Kate decided to claim one of the easels and paint whilst the light was still nice. If Benedict hit his brother in the head on his way to lend her some oils, Kate pretended not to see it, and walked to the side with a fidgety Newton who wouldn't leave her side.

She was glad for the spot Benedict had chosen. It gave her a different perspective of the park, one she hadn't thought about depicting before. She painted a thin white layer on her blank canvas and started working on the green hill before her. They hadn't been the only ones to decide that the warm afternoon called for a nice time in the park: couples promenaded with their chaperones and families played games around her, and for a moment she lost herself in trying to capture it all in her artwork.

She looked up what felt like a second later, even if the progress of her painting said otherwise, when Newton growled at her feet. Lord Perceval stood still, both of his hands up in surrender, and she smiled in spite of herself.

“I come in peace,” he said putting his hands down, and changing the way his left hand grabbed the package he had in it.

“He means no harm,” she said.

“Oh, I have heard of the harm he can make,” he chuckled.

“Only to those who deserve it,” she answered.

“And I'm sure Bridgerton had it coming”. She chuckled with him. “I brought you something,” he said taking the package in both of his hands, “I asked one of my sisters for advice, so if you don't like it feel free to throw it in the river, so I can write a very strong worded letter and send it to her”.

“I'm sure I shall like whatever it is,” she said, leaving her brush on her easel. She unleashed Newton because the constant grumbling was frankly driving her out of her mind, and watched as he ran straight to the tent with the others.

“I realized the other day that I had not given you anything special,” he said, “anyone can send flowers, and the only merit I can claim for you painting is that I collected it, so I promised I would try harder for the next gift”. She looked at the package, then at him and stretched her hand to take what he was offering. She peeled the covering paper carefully. He had given her three tomes that made a book, the newest Austen one. “If I may reveal a secret,” he said, “I think she is a great writer, and, as cheesy as it may sound, the protagonist reminds me of you”. She smiled wider, she had read the book and any comparison anyone wanted to make between the second-born Bennet and herself would always be welcome. “So, I asked for a favour, and that friend asked for a favour and I had it brought for you”.

Grateful, but confused, Kate opened the first page, and there, clear as the sky that day the date of publishing was written in bold letters: the 28th of January, 1813. Kate looked up alarmed, her mouth hanging open in the most unflattering way.

“You tracked a first edition down, for me?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, “I had to make sure it was unique”.

She took the book to her chest and uttered a heartfelt thank you, before he asked if he could join her in the easel next to hers. She wrapped the books in their coverage so as to not get paint on them and returned to her oils. She switched brushes and looked back for Newton who was, astoundingly, laying on the Viscount's lap, while he sat next to Edwina but looked straight to her. She smiled at him, stupidly thinking it could lift his morale, and turned to her painting.

She joked with Phillip – better to start thinking of him as Phillip – when he noticed that the people in her painting were faceless human forms. She defended herself saying that she wasn't a good portrait painter yet, that she would get better with practice, and that faceless humanoid blobs were perfectly acceptable for the time being.

Time passed, their brushes whispering against the canvas while they bantered and jested. She could feel content in a life like that, Kate realized. A life with afternoons painting the green fields outside of her house with her husband by her side. An easy life that would smell like oils and paint cleaner, one in which the dull heartbreak might never disappear but could be replaced by something else. A life that was good.

Soft wind had picked up while she finished the thin clouds she had wanted to add to the scene she was creating, but a fine curl had escaped one of the pins in her hair and kept getting in her face.

“Wait,” Phillip said beside her when she huffed for the tenth time. He stretched his hand giving her enough time to move if she so wished, and gently took it in his fingers. She held her breath in anticipation, waiting for the spark that was sure to come. He tucked her stray hair behind her ear and caressed the skin of her ear and neck. No spark. Not even a glimmer of one.

The racket of a tray falling somewhere in the tent behind them took her out of her thoughts. She gave Phillip a little smile and looked back to see what the fuss had been about. Her eyes caught Benedict's who was leisurely walking towards them.

“Kate,” he said.

“Benedict.”

“Your sister is calling you.”

“Is she?”

“She is.”

“I have not heard her”.

“You must have been distracted,” he answered narrowing his eyes at her, “she wants to take Newton for a walk, but you have the leash”:

“Fine!” she finally said bending to take it from where it had been discarded before, “I shall take it to her.”

“And do not come back!” he bellowed, “you have hogged the easel enough for today!”

Despite what was expected of her Kate turned and stuck her tongue at him. She walked the short distance to the tent, and made her way to the snack table, hoping Colin hadn't eaten all the macarons that had been promised to her. She had been away for too long, it seemed for she found none. She switched directions and sat on the floor next to the Viscount and her dog instead.

“I thought Edwina wanted to take Newton,” she told him.

“She left to promenade with Eloise a while ago,” he answered confused.

“Your brother said, oh nevermind,” she answered leashing the dog, “I better take him for a walk”.

“I can take him,” Penelope said offering her hand, “I see Edwina and Eloise, it will be no trouble at all!”

“Are you sure?” Kate asked.

“Yes, I want to stretch my legs anyway”. Penelope took Newton away and walked towards the other two girls leaving Colin and the other two Irish gentlemen behind.

Kate sighed. “Your brother ate all the macarons,” she pouted.

He was almost laying down beside her, leaning on his elbows and looking at her from bellow, his broad smile took her breath away. “Not all of them,” he said giving her a pouch made out of a napkin, “I managed to save some from his monstrous appetite”.

“For me?” she said, sounding every bit like a giddy child on Christmas.

“Just for you”. His cheeky smile had to be Kate's favourite she decided.

“You know,” she said, “if you weren't so annoying all the time I might start to like your presence over time”.

“I feel like you expect me to thank you for that, but I won't”.

“What a surprise,” she said eating one of her sweets.

“You know what? That's enough cheek out of you, give me back my sweets”.

“But you saved them for me!”

“I saved them from Colin, it had nothing to do with you”.

“I wonder what your mother would say about you trying to take a gift back”.

“Oh, so at the first sign of trouble you decide to drag my mother into this”.

“It seems like the best strategy, yes”. He laughed out loud and shook his head.

“If you do so I shall tell the entire ton you swooned when Perceval gave you that little book,” he said.

“I do not swoon”.

“Ah, but I'll tell them so”.

“Nobody would believe I had swooned because he gave me Austen's last book.”

“But you were smiling like a madwoman.” he accused.

“Well, he did go over quite a bit of trouble to get it for me,” why she was justifying anything to him she did not know, “it was very thoughtful”.

“I did not think you liked Austen”.

“I am a fan of hers. She has achieved what everyone thought impossible”.

“That she has,” he said ending the conversation.

He leaned back and closed his eyes to the rays of the sun that was setting. “I am glad the wind didn't change and we could spend the day outside,” she said.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said a small smile playing at her lips, “and now I have another painting to take back home at the end of the season.”

“Is that why you paint? To have pictures to remember London by?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“One would think it would be the other way around,” he said frowning.

“Meaning?”

“That you would take a piece of the country and bring it to London when you settle”.

She laughed. “I think you are the only person around that has thought about the possibility of me staying here when the season ends. I'd be flattered if I didn't think you were trying to aggravate me”.

“I'm not,” he said sitting up, almost as if trying to convince her that those hadn't been his intentions.

“No, I do not think you are,” she said smiling sadly.

He looked at her then, he tilted his head to the side while his eyes jumped from one of her features to the next. Kate could have sworn his gaze was almost a fond one, and that it became sweeter the more he looked at her. In return, her lips started to widen and she could feel her cheeks getting warmer. She sucked on her bottom lip, not really knowing how to react to whatever was happening. In a movement as smooth as it was quick, his hand found hers in the grass, and every hair of her body stood stright when a sudden lightning bolt passed through her entire body. Could he feel it? Whatever this hole that had appeared in her throat and threatened to consume her was?

She almost cursed when Newton came running and tackled Anthony into the ground, before licking his face from chin to forehead.

“Dog!” he said annoyed.

“Kate!” Penelope stage whispered running to her, “look who is over there!” Kate looked at her friend who had either impeccable or horrible timing.

“Is that?”

“Lord Goodwyn and Florinda Skevington, promenading,” Penelope giggled and Kate struggled not to do the same.

“Pray tell, why would that be funny?”

“Oh it is not,” Kate said, “you see, Miss Skevington has not been seen in society for two weeks,” he raised a brow, “you see, two weeks ago, dear Miss Skevington was short on air after dancing for a dance too long,” Kate started.

“And, of course, sweet Lord Goodwyn showed her to the terrace,” Penelope followed.

“Of course,” Anthony said smirking.

“And we,” Penelope said pointing at Kate and herself, “may have seen Lord Skevington leave for the terrace some moments later. Now, we are saying nothing,”

“Except you absolutely are,” said Colin who had appeared next to them.

“We would never conspire Mr Bridgerton, you wound me,” Kate said smirking.

“Anyway,” Anthony said gesturing them to proceed having accepted his role as Newton's pillow.

“I think he will propose within a fortnight,” Penelope said.

“They will wait another week,” Kate said eating her last macaron in front of Colin's indignant face.

“I shall raise an eclair to our current bet,” Penelope said.

“No way, I have already lost too many, I don't have more eclairs to give”.

“I shall bet for you, Kate!” Colin said.

“Wait,” Anthony said, “how many eclairs are there at stake right now?”

“In total?” Penelope asked. Anthony nodded. “Six.”

“No, you won the last one, so five”.

“Five, then”.

“Is this what the two of you do while the rest of us are running away from mammas?” Colin asked, “bet on us poor souls?” They both laughed.

“I bet, Penelope wins. You would think I would have learned how ridiculously perceptive she is by now,” Kate said standing up, “I think I see my sister,” she said, “We should probably head home soon”.

Colin and Penelope looked as Kate walked towards Benedict to retrieve her painting, and Anthony looked as if he would never see her again. Penelope tilted her head towards Colin's ear and whispered, “I shall bet you an eclair she does not marry the Baron”.

Colin smiled and whispered back, “I shall bet you another one that she will marry another before the season ends”.

* * *

_**I** don't like him._

Those four little words kept roaming Anthony's head. They had since he had first heard them at the beginning of the afternoon, and they had refused to leave no matter how much or how long he had wanted them to.

He wouldn't have cared for them had anyone else said them. He would try incredibly hard to ignore them had his own mind been the one to formulate them. But he hadn't. Edwina Sheffield had.

Edwina, sweet and silent Edwina had taken a look at the Baron of Arden, heard him talk for the minimum time necessary, sat next to Anthony the first chance they had had to talk while the rest of their group had been distracted and said those four words: _I don't like him._

He had needed no more validation to feel the all-consuming anger he had been trying to keep at bay, so he had kept a watchful eye for the rest of the afternoon until Benedict – thank the heavens for Benedict – had decided to invent something to send Kate his way. If asked, Anthony would never admit those moments of banter between them had been the highlight of his week.

Anthony was leaving his mother's study when he met Benedict in the hall.

“I was on my way to speak with mother, about Aubrey Hall,” Benedict said.

“Are you coming after all?” Anthony asked.

“No, I want to make sure the guest list is right.”

“I've already done that.”

“What?”

“The Baron of Arden and his other two idiots won't be attending”. Anthony had just had the conversation with his mother, who hadn't been too pleased by the last-minute changes, but since those invitations hadn't been delivered yet, there would be no problems.

“Anthony,” Benedict said.

“I don't want them in my home”. They would not cross his threshold if Anthony had any say in the matter. Benedict winked knowingly.

When Anthony arrived at his bachelor lodgings and readied for what would surely be another night full of images of Kate Sheffield, he felt almost optimistic. When Morpheus took him, he went willingly.

Anthony stood outside a bleak-looking Bridgerton house. There was barely a soul in the streets of Grosvenor Square and the weather was dark and windy. A sharp chill travelled through his body. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He wanted to move but his feet were frozen in the spot, almost as if they had nailed the soles of his shoes deep into the ground. His body didn't feel truly his own and his chest moved too quick for enough air to fill his lungs. The hairs on his nape stood. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He mustered the courage to move and take a tentative step forward. He slowly climbed the stairs that separated the street and his family house and pushed the handle. The silence hit him first. He should be able to hear the wind howling outside, but no sound dared penetrate the walls.

He saw Daphne first, sat in the middle of the parlour, hugging her knees to her chest. He walked to her but her eyes wouldn't settle on his. His hand moved to touch her cheek and found it wet. He asked what was wrong but she wouldn't answer, he screamed at her face, but she didn't even flinch. He had to find what was wrong, and fix it.

He climbed the second staircase. He could hear people now, maids whispered in corners, and serving boys moved about. Colin was standing against a column. Unmoving, just like Daphne had been. Unresponsive.

The guttural scream he heard right after would have shaken the foundation had it been anything but in perfect condition, and it somehow entered his soul and pierced his heart on its way. She had never heard her scream, but he knew it was Kate. Kate was in the house, and Kate was in pain.

He ran up the last flight of stairs screaming her name, and followed the sobs that got louder and louder until he reached a dark room. He ignored the pain in Benedict's face while he hugged their desolate mother. Kate was in there, clutching her round stomach with one hand while she threw the other over a limp body that was laying in the bed.

Anthony felt the moment the air in his lungs escaped his body. It was when he saw that the face of the man Kate was desperately begging to come back to life, was Anthony's own. It was when he saw the dead carcass of a bee right beside him.

Anthony sat up in his bed and immediately stood up. He paced the length of his room trying to find a solution to his nightmare. Truth be told, he had had it all along: he would marry Edwina Sheffield, and that way, Kate would never mourn his death.

* * *

**I** t was a hellish, humid night, the one in which Lady Trowbridge's ball was hosted that year. The gardens murmured sultry invitations to those in attendance, and mammas warned their youngest about venturing into them. The ballroom was as crowded as always, with usual suspects taking turns spinning in it. Kate and Penelope chated glass of lemonade in hand, when the Bridgeton clan made their appearance. Eloise found them first, eager to share this and that with her friends, but it was Anthony who couldn't keep his eyes away. No one knew, but that was the night he would bid Kate Sheffield farewell.

Eloise ran along the perimeter of the ballroom until she reached them. She had that look in her face, Kate noticed, the one that could only mean trouble. They didn't have time to greet her before she whispered, “I found a book”.

“You found a book,” Penelope said.

“Yes, the other day as I walked with Edwina I found this book,” she said taking something more akin to a journal out of her satchel, “it's about the men of the _ton_ ” she squealed.

“What do you mean?” Kate said taking it from her hand, reading some of it and blushing scarlet, “Eloise! You read this?”

“Of course I read it! How was I supposed to know what it was about?”

“Half of the pages have been taken out,” Penelope observed.

“Yes, because I have them at home,” Eloise said.

“You can't have this at home!” Kate said, her eyes wide like saucers, “Your mother would kill you if she found out. Why would you even bring this?” she followed shaking the journal.

“Because that is your bit,” Eloise told Kate.

Kate chocked on air, “M-my bit?”

“Yes, there's fifteen chapters, which makes five for each of us, and those are yours. Those are the men you need to find in the ocean that is the _ton's_ finest market”.

“We should not have this with us, even less in public. We should burn it”.

“My chapters are at your house, then?” Penelope asked.

“Not you too,” Kate grumbled.

“Listen, this gem of a book has fallen on our hands and it is our responsibility to find the rakes that inspired it, we can make a game out of it: an eclair for correct a guess”.

“I should not be encouraging this,” Kate said.

“Come on Kate, what's the worst that can happen?” Penelope asked. Kate hid the journal in her own satchel when she saw Anthony approaching them from the other side of the ballroom. He asked for a dance from Kate, and she offered her dancing card. Eloise and Penelope giggled when they saw he had written his name down for a waltz, and then, just like he had come he was gone.

“I guess the two of you won't be dissuaded from this?” she asked. Eloise and Penelope shook their heads. “Then we shall perish together”.

On the other side of the room, Anthony watched how those ignorant of their own mortality enjoyed their night, dance and fell in love. He had almost not gone. He had almost stayed at his club, and convinced himself that, since his mother would have both Benedict and Colin with her, he had earned the right to stay home. More so, knowing how little he had been able to sleep those past nights.

His eyes followed her while she walked around the room, she was a sight dressed in green, smiling and chatting with every person that approached her. Even in the distance, he knew when she was about to insult someone by the way her mouth would slightly purse. He knew when she found the conversation amusing by the way she would shut her jaw to stop herself from laughing.

He had never had her, not really, but he missed her nonetheless.

He saw the moment she left the room and like an idiot, he followed. She felt him walk behind her into an empty hall, and like an idiot, she slowed down. He knew he should turn and walk away, especially after what had happened at that very same ball with Daphne and Simon. It was not too late to turn the other way and leave her alone. But then, she stopped.

And in that empty hall, away from the music and the noise, like two idiots, she forgot all about her sister, and he forgot all about his nightmares.

He had her pinned against the wall before anyone of them knew what was happening, both her hands surrounded his neck, and his forehead leaned on hers.

“Why?” she asked, “Why now?” _Now that I was about to give myself a chance to forget you_.

He didn't respond. Because what was he supposed to tell her, that he had been jealous of his own brother? That he couldn't stand the sight of her near Phillip Perceval? That the thought of any man in her thoughts and arms made him sick, but the thought of leaving her alone in the world with their children terrified him even more? How could he say anything, when he planned to ask for her sister's hand in marriage as soon as he had the chance.

She pushed her nose against his, acting braver than she felt, as his heart beat against hers. _I'm sure his heart beats Kate, just not for you, not for much longer,_ she told herself. Edwina, one day he'll whisper her name oh so sweetly. Edwina, he'll say inside the four walls they will call their own. But now, in that frozen moment in time, he's there with Kate, and even if it's just for a second, he's hers.

Their lips found each other in the hallway, and it was sweet, and it was sad, and it tasted like goodbye in both their mouths.

They heard Penelope's voice and her loud footsteps with enough time, and Anthony forced himself to stand against the wall on the other side. “Kate!” Penelope says, “there you are!”

“I bumped into Lord Bridgerton on my way to the ladies',” she answered.

“Wonderful, now we shall go together”. With a small bow, they leave him alone.

Anthony didn't know how long he stayed there, a ridiculous amount of time, he's sure, but he couldn't dare check his pocket watch. When he moved, it was like he had left a part of him behind. So of course he finds bloody Phillip Perceval walking towards the same hallway in which he had been wallowing in self-pity.

“On your way to the ladies', Perceval?” he mocked.

“On my way to a lady, if you'll excuse me”.

“Which one?”

“Which one? Have you seen me with anyone apart from Miss Sheffield?”

“And you plan to trap her in a marriage by what? Being discovered alone in a dark hallway by your goons?”

“Had the thought, Bridgerton?”

“Please, if I were to ever find myself in that situation I'd much prefer to throw myself to the Thames before anything could come of it. The younger one is the good one. A pity you'll never have her, who would have you when they could have me? Walk in there, if you must, I'm sure you will relish in the miserable life you both deserve”.

A gasp escaped someone behind him, and Anthony saw Penelope slap her hand against her open mouth. Kate was firmly looking at the floor, humiliated, and Anthony felt whatever was left of his heartbreak. She rushed past them without looking up, but Penelope made sure he saw the hatred in her eyes, and Perceval, Perceval had the audacity to laugh.

“Wonderful job Bridgerton,” he said tapping his shoulder, “I thought I'd have to fight tooth and nail to throw you out of the running, but you are doing a better job on your own than I could ever. Marry the other one. Get yourself a meek little wife Bridgerton, I'll give Kate the excitement she deserves”. He ran after them, and left Anthony behind.

It was an irate Colin who found him first, punching him in the chest and asking his older brother what he had done. Anthony numbly walked to the side of the ballroom where the first notes of a waltz started playing. His last dance with Kate. He watched as Benedict caught what he truly hoped wasn't a tear from Kate's cheek, and led her to the ballroom.

“Look mamma,” sweet, oblivious Edwina said next to him, “Kate is getting better”.

“It's all in the leading sweetling, and finding the right partner,” their mother answered, worried as she looked at her eldest.

So Anthony Bridgerton, like the coward he never thought he was, left.

* * *

**A** nthony nursed his third glass of brandy sitting in the darkness of his office. Benedict walked in without knocking.

“Anthony about tonight ...”

“I really don't need the lecture, Benedict”.

“I think you do”.

“I really don't,” he said downing his glass and pouring another.

“You need to make a decision. Either you stop being an idiot and give both of you a chance in happiness or you bloody let her go!” he had never seen his brother so bothered, “You cannot keep doing what you are doing”.

“Benedict”.

“No, listen to me. I like Kate. She is good, and she's smart and you keep insulting her and stringing her along and then pursuing her sister. It's horrible of you to do so”.

“I told you from the very beginning I would marry the incomparable of the season, an that's ...”

“Oh for Christ sake. That was before and you know it”.

“Before what?”

“Before Kate!”

Silence surrounded them. Benedict walked to Anthony and crouched in front of him, putting his hands on Anthony's knees.

“Come on brother,” he whispered, “Why won't you let yourself try? Do you know how lucky you are? How lucky you are to have the person that is meant for you right in front of you, to be allowed to love them, and cherish them, and ...”

“Benedict you are being ridiculous”.

“Then why won't you let the Baron court her?”

“The Baron is an idiot, you dislike him more than I do”.

“Let us not pretend it would be different with anyone else”.

“You don't know that”.

“No, and we bloody won't will we? This being her only season and all”.

“It doesn't have to be, I'll pay for her next season myself”.

“Now, that's just cruel Anthony. I do not expect much at this point, but I still expect more than that from you,” Benedict said, with more disdain in his voice than Anthony had ever heard, “You would have Kate living in your house, with you and your merrily wedded wife, her probably already pregnant sister the Viscountess, while you pay for her season in the _ton_?”

“You marry her if you like her so bloody much,” he said revolted at the visual Benedict had presented.

“Yes, I'm sure that would make everything so much better”. Benedict threw his arms in the air and headed to the door.

“Benedict,” Anthony said, inhaling the scent of lilies that somehow still lingered, “Was she all right?”

“No”. And just like came, he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.  
> Listen. I know. I'm sorry. It pains me as much as it pains you, but we are getting closer to Aubrey Hall and I needed them to be at odds with each other because I am kind of sort of following the book for this one. I promise to be good next chapter.
> 
> I do.


	5. Yours,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up right after the other one left off, all the way to the point where Kate and Anthony see each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST OF ALL: Kate does not have a nice on the first part of this chapter. So if you are not in that kind of mindset right now, just skip to the first line break. I'm serious. If you are having a stressful week, or you really don't want to read about people struggling with the emotional bomb that was the last chapter, just skip it. I promise you will not miss anything that's important for the plot. Put yourself first, even (especially) while reading fanfiction. 
> 
> To the rest of you: it was hard to write. I'm sorry.

**Yours,**

* * *

**K** ate sat on her dresser ignoring the carriage ride back from Lady Trowbridge's ball, thinking that if she forgot about it, the truth would stop being true, and the humiliating tears that threatened to fall from her eyes would stop existing. 

Benedict had not left her side for the brief time she had been forced to stay at the ball, or at least, until Mary had had enough and walked over to her to take her home. Edwina had been confused about her sister's mood, but had chosen to keep quiet about it and left for her rooms as soon as the three of them had arrived in their London home. Mary had taken Kate to her room and enquired about her sudden sadness, but left when Kate had claimed she had a headache and wanted to be alone. 

The withered roses on her room only taunted her further, so she got up, grabbed them with one of her hands and threw them to the fire. She stared as they burned to ashes. Then, a dangling piece of thick paper caught her attention.

Kate yanked the dancing card from her wrist after that, and gasped in pain when the delicate silk securing it wouldn't rip or budge, but left an angry red mark behind. She frantically looked for a letter opener while she took her gloves off with her teeth, for the knot on the wretched thing had tightened and she could no longer untie it with her fingers. It would not move. The cursed ribbon wouldn't untie, and the blasted card would not rip, and she only wanted his stupid name far away from her. She really didn't think it was that much to ask.

She paced her room until she found the letter opener and swiftly slid it between her wrist and the ribbon, pulling without taking enough care and cutting the ball of the thumb. Kate closed her fist and drew a sharp breath, letting her dancing card fall to the floor. His name, the only one filling any of the slots available, mocked her from her carpet. 

Suddenly, the one breath was not enough and Kate drew another one, and then another. She kept trying to fill her lungs, but they rejected the air she was inhaling, while her brain played his voice over and over again: _I'm sure you will relish in the miserable life you both deserve_. A strangled sob left her chest. She had thought in some stupid, childish way that he had started to care for her, that he al least tolerated her, but wishing her misery? With someone he very clearly despised? She truly couldn't fathom having done anything to elicit that kind of response.

Had it all been some Machiavellian plan to soften her enough that she would permit him to marry her sister? She felt stupid. Stupid for thinking that he had liked her well enough, stupid for claiming his smiles for herself, stupid for believing the half-lies he had told her and allowing herself to sweeten the dislike she had felt for him.

He had been toying with her for weeks, and like a fool, she had let him. Like an even bigger fool, she had started to fall for him. All, while he laughed behind her back.

Blood coated her hand but her dress felt too tight and her corset made it difficult to breathe, so she took both of her hands to her back and started clumsily untying buttons. She had been such a nitwit when she was supposed to be the smart sister. The worst part was that somehow, a voice inside of her had known. She had heard him in his study, she had known his intentions, she had read of his reputation in Lady Whistledown, and still ... 

Still he had kissed her, and she had kissed him and she had become his little secret. Lord, she had become the mistress in her sister's courtship. She had given him the power to ruin her and destroy her sister, and she had seldom looked back. Because after Benedict, and after the studio, he had turned nice, and he had been funny and he had treated her with kindness when, in reality, he had felt nothing but disgust. Every moment they shared, every glance and every smile, he had been pretending. He wanted her to have a miserable life.  
  
Kate pulled at her dress, not caring if the buttons survived her wrath, and tugged at the strings in her corset. She was barely aware of Newton barking around her. She needed room to breathe. 

Kate felt a pair of small hands on her shoulders, and smelt the scent she associated with Mary. “Oh, my darling,” Mary said, “what happened, my love?”

She felt someone untying the knots that Kate had made worse, and when she finally felt like she had room to breathe, Kate hid her face in Mary's neck and wept.

* * *

  
**A** nthony looked at the blank page in front of him waiting for it to reveal the answers to the questions he was too scared to voice. It wouldn't matter, there just was no way the right words would materialize in front of him. He had been trying to write the letter since Benedict had left his study almost ten days before, but the apologies he managed to create were never right. He had read and rewrote it every morn ad every night since he had been unnecessarily cruel to Kate, but the words were never fitting. 

He leaned back on his chair and huffed, loosening his cravat and running his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time. The scent of lilies had finally dissipated from his office, and he hadn't been surprised by the fact that he missed it. He had debated bringing a bouquet of them into the office one brandy filled night a couple of days before, but realized he would have no excuse for them that time – and he really could not stand another one of the looks Benedict kept sending his way.

His brother had been strangely out of character the entire seenight, or so Anthony tried to justify himself. Benedict had been cross with Anthony for no longer than two days, even working on the letter with him. They had hoped some of Benedict's artistic flair would help the apology, maybe Kate would agree to talk to him face to face. Most of their attempts had ended in the fire, because they had both known that Kate would be able to know which one wrote what. Until the news came: the Sheffields had stopped attending to visitors. 

The hadn't believed it at first, Nigel Berbrook had been the one sharing the news after all, but then Benedict had tried calling and had been met with a cold “ _the misses are not home_ ” by the butler. Colin had asked about in the clubs, even asked the bloody Irish if they knew something, and they had. Forbes – the least irritating of the three that had gone with their group to Hyde Park – had told Colin that Mrs Sheffield had asked her household to turn any and all suitors away until all three of them were once again in condition to rejoin society. 

All the mystery surrounding the house in Millner street kept Anthony awake more nights than he would care to admit. The more they dug, the less made sense. Until dear, sweet, wonderful Penelope Featherington threw them a bone and babbled to Colin. Anthony would have preferred a blow to his gut than the tone Colin had carried when he told both of his older brothers what he had learnt: Kate was sick. Or so they had told the world. Anthony had inhaled deep and gone straight for the brandy, while Benedict just walked away and hadn't talked to his older brother the next day.

He could hear someone stomping towards his office, while he pinched the bridge of his nose and repositioned the piece of paper in front of him. He bit on his thumb and listed the points he thought he had to mention with a concentration that would make his Eaton tutors proud. 

His thoughts went back to Kate. A head cold would take a person out for a few days, but not a week, and not someone as healthy as Kate was. If Kate needed so long to recover from the hurt he had caused her, Anthony would spend every time they saw each other making it up to her. If she really were sick, if he had caused whatever sickness was keeping all three Sheffields at home, he would never forgive himself. There was really no need to be so cruel with her, even if he had thought she was nowhere to hear him.

Whichever of his stomping siblings wanted to talk to him, knocked on the door once, giving him almost no time to cover his writings. Eloise let the door slam on her way in. “Eloise, the door!” he said.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You did something!”

“I do a great deal of things every day, dearest sister, you will have to be more specific.”

“I know it was you. Benedict has been angry with you for a seenight, Colin is always running around like a madman, and Penelope pulls a face every time I mention you. So tell me what you did. What did you do to Miss Sheffield that she will not answer when I send word? What did you do that has Benedict pacing around the drawing-room writing for permission to take Kate to the opera as if he were inviting Queen?”

Anthony was out of his seat before Eloise could say anything else. He walked into the drawing-room with Eloise complaining behind him, something about a project Kate, Penelope and Eloise had been working on. 

“You are taking Miss Sheffield to the opera?” Anthony asked Benedict. Surely Benedict knew why that was a horrible idea. If he didn't Anthony had a full list of reasons ready.

“I am asking Mrs Sheffield for permission to take Miss Sheffield to the ballet,” Benedict looked at him, as if measuring the stupidity of his brother. Anthony let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, “Mr and Mrs Grandville invited her, and I am hoping she will like to come”.

Colin entered at that moment, walking from the street and grabbing a biscuit from the tray. He crossed glances with both of his brothers and shook his head: the Sheffields _hadn't been home_ that that day either. Benedict crossed out something in his paper and scribbled again furiously.

“I truly hope that poor girl feels better soon,” their mother said from her spot in one of the chairs, “I have invited Mrs Sheffield for tea twice since the Trowbridge ball, and she has been unable to come”. Eloise let her teacup go with a bit more force than was needed. “Do be careful, dearest.”

“Mama?”

“Yes, Eloise?”

“Miss Sheffield had tea at Penelope's house ere-yesterday”.

Being the eldest, he had been around his mother the longest, but Anthony was sure he had never seen that look in her mother's face. Her tongue was between her top teeth and her upper lip, and she had squared her shoulders. She left the embroidery she had been working on to the side and stood up very slowly. “Well,” she said, “if Miss Sheffield is well enough for her mother to have tea with Portia Featherington, I am sure she will be able to come to tea this week”. Then, she left the drawing-room in a haste.

“So it is not the _ton_ they shan't see, it is us Bridgertons,” Eloise said a bit dejected.

Anthony ran his hands through his hair again and walked back to his study, where he really hoped none of his siblings would follow. He slammed the door on the way in, cursing his own stupidity and making a ball out of the notes he had been working on before. He needed a drink, or to punch someone.

In an exercise of empathy that had become a habit in the past days, he switched the Sheffields with his siblings and thanked his maker knowing that no one would demand satisfaction for his actions. Anthony would have dragged the poor bastard to the duelling grounds the very next day, Benedict would have been his second, just like the last time. Alas, the Sheffields had no close male relatives, so he had been spared the bargaining between exile or death.

The door opened as he rubbed his temples. He expected Banadict, maybe even Colin, but Gregory's chestnut-haired head appeared through it. “May I come in?” he asked, overly polite. Anthony offered him a seat. His youngest brother looked very serious, like he was looking for the right words to say whatever he wanted to say. Anthony waited. Then, Gregory breathed in and asked, “Is someone dying?”

Anthony frowned, “why would you ask that?”

“Everyone is upset,” he said dropping his arms against his sides, “Benedict has been angry, Colin almost looks sad and you switch from one to the other. So if someone is dying or sick or whatever it is I want to know”.

“Nobody is dying or sick, everybody is fine”. He had never thought this conundrum he had placed them in would affect the youngest in the family.

“But something is wrong”. Gregory said.

“Your older brother was an idiot,” he corrected himself, “I was cruel and I hurt a friend, and if I-, _when_ I make it up, everything will go back to normal”.

Gregory crossed his legs on top of the chair and leaned his head against his hand. “If you were cruel, why not just say you are sorry?”

“I will say sorry, the right words just will not come to me”. 

“Are you writing the truth?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No,” Gregory sighed dramatically, “if you did something so bad that all Benedict, Colin, Eloise and Mama are cross with you,” great, his mother knew more than she'd let on then, “why do you not right every wrong you have done from the very beginning? Is it not better to tell all the unflattering truths than sending a bunch of pretty lies?”  
Anthony looked at his brother, who decided to just get up and leave after that, and then look at his blank pages again. Gregory was right.

He started writing: _Dear Miss Sheffield_.

* * *

  
**H** e stood alone in Millner Street. They were home. Anthony had seen the curtains move on the second floor, and he had heard Mrs Sheffield chastise the dog for barking when he had stood in front of the butler that wouldn't let him in. He had used his mother's invitation to tea as an excuse to venture to the Sheffield's house and check if he could leave his own letter behind.

He hadn't trusted the butler to deliver his word to Kate, however, and the only maid he had crossed paths with had been the one that really didn't like him, Annie. So he stood there, like an idiot in the middle of the street, looking towards a window that he hoped was hers, wishing he could see her and know if she was all right. 

He would have to try another day, he thought, putting his hat on and walking away. A young maid ran into him, from the opposite direction looking everywhere but at him, but whispering his name. “Pardon me, my Lord, but Miss Sheffield wants to see you.”

Anthony's eyes widened as he rushed behind the maid to what looked like the side entrance to the house where Miss Sheffield waited. It just wasn't the right one. 

Edwina kept looking around like a scared squirrel while urging him forward with her hand. He knew he should walk away, he really needn't more trouble with the Sheffields.

“Miss Sheffield,” he said.

“Lord Bridgerton,” she bowed, “I need to ask a favour of you”.

“Of me?” he asked.

“For my sister”. _Oh, Lord_.

“Tell me,” he said.

“I know I should not ask for it. I know it is not proper, but I do not have the means, or the connection and,” she rambled. He got more and more worried every word she uttered, had something happened to Kate? Something worse than him? “Lord Bridgerton, could you please look into the Baron of Arden?”

“The Baron?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise.

“I just,” she said, “I have this feeling. I do not like him”.

“Miss Sheffield …” he started.

“I do not know him, and he seems perfectly sweet and civil and nice, but there is this voice inside my head that will not be quiet”.

“Has there been anything untoward?” he asked. The pot calling the kettle black. 

“No, not at all. It's this feeling I have. Please, could you do this? For Kate?”

“I will ask around”. He answered. There was a silence after she thanked him. He clutched his letter in his hand, assessing if he could trust her with it. “How is your sister?” he asked instead, “my sister Eloise said she was unwell”.

Edwina looked down and blinked rapidly. She swallowed before looking up and answering with a whisper. “She was sad. I do not know if I have seen her so sad in a long time,” she frowned and swallowed again, “then she was angry for a couple of days and now, now she just walks about the house. She will not even paint”. Anthony swallowed the horrible feeling that had nested in his throat. She looked him in the eyes and asked, “you will fix it, will you not? Whatever you did? She does not talk about it, but I know my sister and I know ...”

“I want to,” he said overcome with emotion, “I wish for nothing more than to fix it”. She nodded and took a deep breath. “Miss Sheffield,” he said squeezing his letter, “I have agreed to help you, could you, maybe, extend me the same kindness?” He offered her his letter, and Edwina took it between her small hands. “I need for that letter to reach your sister, but I do not know how to get it to her. I cannot trust the wrong person with it”.

“Is that why you came?” she asked fighting what he thought were tears, “to bring this to her?”

“I … It is the only way I think I can start to make amends”.

“I will give it to her,” she said clutching it against her chest, “and she shall read it”.

“She might not, and I would understand that”.

“She will, I promise”. They bowed to each other, and he left, looking up towards the grey sky and feeling lighter than he had in days.

* * *

  
**“P** ull yourself together,” she told her reflection in the mirror. She really couldn't guess why she felt the way she felt. Yes, the horrible words he had said had humiliated her in front of her friend and a potential suitor, but the deep betrayal she felt was surely not warranted. It was completely illogical, and Kate hated illogicality above all things. 

It hurt, she reminded herself, because she had thought they had been friends of sort. It hurt, because she had hoped they would have been something else in a perfect world.

Her musings were interrupted by Annie on her door. “Miss Penelope Featherington is here to see you, Miss,” she said.

“Tell her I am not home, Annie please”. She really wasn't in the mood for visitors.

“I told her, Miss. But she insists. She doesn't look too well”. That caught Kate's attention. 

“Is she in the drawing-room?” Kate asked.

“She won't move from the parlour, Miss. She says she isn't good company for your sister and mother, that she only wishes to see you”. Kate opened the door at that and looked at Annie's worried face.

“Do you know what is wrong with her?”

“She won't say, Miss. She's been crying though, I can tell”.

“Bring her here,” Kate said, and walked to open the window and let fresh air into the stuffy room, “and bring us tea”.

Penelope looked almost shy as she walked into the room. Annie was right, she had been crying. Her eyes were red and her fists were tightly closed. She looked lost in the Sheffield house, like she didn't belong there, not when whatever was worrying her had her at the most vulnerable Kate had ever seen her. Kate and Penelope weren't that close, not really, and not if their relationship was compared with the one Penelope and Eloise shared. So whatever had brought her friend over, was something that could not be shared with Eloise, and therefore, had to do with a Bridgerton. Kate didn't really know if she had the strength to deal with it.

“I rang for tea,” Kate said breaking the silence, and offering Penelope a seat.

“Thank you,” she said taking it. None of them talked until Annie came back with the tea and some biscuits. Kate started serving them both, intentionally ignoring Penelope as she grabbed some pages from the little satchel she carried around. When Kate had poured a cup for each of them, Penelope squared her shoulders and offered Kate the pages.

Kate felt the moment her soul hit the ground. 

She recognized them, of course, her own part of the bargain was hidden under her mattress. Untouched since the day she had placed the small journal there. She carefully took the pages away from Penelope and started reading the scandalous tale. Penelope could be wrong, the story that brought more and more heat to Kate's cheeks didn't necessarily need to be about … 

_That's a mighty C for the third B if I've ever seen one._  
  
That was just obscene. Kate balled her left hand and placed it in front of her lips. To be honest, and fair, had this chapter been in the ones she had to read, she would have thought the same thing that Penelope had.

“Penelope …” Kate said.

“Don't”.

“It might not be him”. 

“It is him”.

“You do not know that”.

“I have read that- that thing forwards and backwards. That is Colin Bridgerton she writes about”. Kate rubbed her eyes, as she switched places so she could sit next to her friend. There was no need to discuss the deep betrayal plain in Penelope's eyes. Kate knew a thing or two about feeling that way when she wasn't allowed to. “She even calls him _Charming C_ towards the end”.

Penelope struggled to keep her tears at bay, and Kate hugged her tight, “oh, Pen ...”

“What am I even crying about? I do not even have the right to be upset”.

“In here you do”. She did, whatever feelings Penelope though she wasn't entitled to were valid inside her four walls.

“It's … I knew it happened. I am not stupid, I know what is expected. It is fine that it does,” she said furiously rubbing her tears away, “I just never had to see it in writing, plain as day”.

“He is incredibly stupid,” Kate said, damning all Bridgerton boys. Maybe not the little one, but the other three.

“Nevermind,” Penelope said shaking her head, “I think the worst of it was seeing how our stupid plan for gossip exploded in my face. I just- if Colin is in there, there is no way An-” Penelope stopped herself, “there is no way the other two are not in that journal.”

“I have not read my chapters. I have not had the time,” _or the will_ , Kate added for herself.

“I really do not want Eloise to have to read that,” Penelope said, “We should have burnt it when we first had it in our hands”.

Kate groaned, she really didn't want to think about Eloise's brother's raking about at that moment, but Penelope was right. She always was. “I will check what I have here, but we should really take those chapters from Eloise and burn the entire thing”.

“We should,” Penelope said, getting the pages from her and walking to the fire. 

They had tea after that, and talked about anything else, until they both felt a little better. When Penelope decided she was composed enough to head home, Kate walked her to the door. 

“Thank you,” Penelope said.

“There is really no need. I shall try to read through mine as quick as I can”.

Penelope gave her a sad smile. “Have you decided? About Aubrey Hall?” 

The invitation had arrived earlier the previous week, when her mood and circumstances were on the other end of the spectrum: without the hurt and the embarrassment.

“I do not know. Mary is reluctant to go.”

“Did you tell her? About...”

“No. But I was ... upset, and she worries,” she really should remember how perceptive Penelope actually was.

“Well, Lady Bridgerton came over to the house for tea the other day,” Penelope said, “Eloise told me she huffed about your mother not accepting her invitation at least twice”.

Kate sighed and rubbed her forehead, “Maybe, if Eloise did not gossip like the Mammas, Lady Bridgerton would be none the wiser and I could avoid the headache that will inevitably come of it”.

“Unlikely,” Penelope said squeezing her hands and walking down the front stairs. “Kate?” she said turning back, “try to not get overly upset over it. Do not follow my flair for the dramatic”.

Kate returned to her room and took the journal out of its hiding place. She looked through it without reading it but distinguished five different handwritings. Eloise had been right, five chapters each. She held her hands under her chin for a moment and warred with herself. She knew that the chapter written about him would be amongst the ones she was expected to read. That was just her luck, but that was not what worried her. 

Because what if Benedict was in it. The flash of a memory from the first time she visited Grandville's study crossed her mind.

She pinched her lower lip with her fingers and opened the journal. She skimmed through the first bit about a man with a birthmark that resembled Prussia, and jumped the second one about two women. The third one caught her attention, but she decided to skip it when she found nothing she could recognize in either part of the couple. The fourth one, she realized as soon as she started reading it, was the one she had been dreading. 

Kate recognized the description of the coloured walls and paintings that adorned said walls. The high windows that let light in and formed impossible rainbows; the rooms full of flowers and models; and enough art to sate even the most avid painter. She gasped when Grandville's studio was mentioned by name. 

She bit her lip, as the opposite scene to the one she was used to painted itself in the pages before her. Lines about the alcohol, strange substances that she knew nothing about, the women and the men filled both sides of paper, as they followed behind someone that Kate recognized more and more after every word read. Someone had written about Benedict, and Kate only wanted to cause them irreparable harm.

Annie knocked on her door and called her downstairs for supper. She changed out of her slippers and walked to her stepmother and sister. Edwina, would not stop looking at her and fidgeting on her seat. Mary, who had turned to more physical ways to show her affection in the past seenight, hugged her before they all sat at the table.

“I thought I saw Miss Featherington leave the house earlier?” Mary said, smiling.

“Yes, she came to see how I was,” Kate answered.

“How nice of her. Did you have a chance to catch up with her, Edwina?” Mary asked.

“No!” Edwina squealed. Whatever was wrong with her? “I was elsewhere.”

Mary frowned at that, and Edwina looked like wide-eyed rabbit in front of a fox. Kate interveined before Mary could pounce. “Penelope asked me about Aubrey Hall”.

“What about Aubrey Hall?” Mary said looking at Kate.

“If we are going or not.”

Mary sighed and stopped eating. “I should send word to Lady Bridgerton and tell her we shall be staying in London”. Kate nodded.

“What?” Edwina asked, “Why?”

“Edwina,” Mary warned.

“It is going to be the ball of the season Mamma. Surely we cannot stay in London”.

“Surely,” Mary said sharply, “you jest”.

Kate looked between Mary and Edwina. They both had the same fierce look in their eye. She knew that look, it never ended well. 

“I think we should go,” Kate said tiredly, what was one las sacrifice, after all.

“Darling,” Mary answered, “we do not have to. Your sister will see reason”.

“The sister is right in front of you”.

“I should like to go,” Kate said, “If I claim to be sick much longer the _ton_ will think it is some kind of deadly thing I have caught, and none of us will be able to enjoy the rest of the season.”

Mary turned her head to Edwina. “I hope you realize the kind of sister you have and that you are grateful for it”.

“I do, mother”. Edwina said in the same tone she used when she was younger. _Oh, bloody hell_.

“Edwina Sheffield I do not like that tone”.

“I think I should like to go for a walk,” Kate said standing up, she really didn't want to be anywhere near the screaming match that was about to begin.

“But you barely ate,” Edwina said concerned.

“I lost my appetite”. 

Kate got up walked up to her room, yanked the pages out of the journal and walked to the drawing-room where Newton's leash usually was. She was out of the door before the real arguing started with Ellie – the younger maid that usually tended to Edwina and Kate whenever Annie was otherwise engaged – by her side.

She guided them on a brisk walk towards Grosvenor Square, taking the route she normally didn't take even if it was shorter. She heard her name being called before she had expected it. Benedict walked on the other side of the road, dodging the people that walked too slow to not be in his way, and sidestepping the ones that strolled in the other direction. Kate waited for him in a small patch of grass that she had deemed privet enough, and Ellie waited a few paces away.

“Kate!” he said when he reached her, with a brilliant smile on his face. He kissed her hand before saying, “I am so glad to see you”.

“I was on my way to your house,” Kate said, trying to match his enthusiasm, at least for appearance's sake. Dread for what she was about to tell him was the only emotion in her.

“You were?” Benedict's smile became even wider.

“I was”.

“I shall walk you”.

“No need,” she said and she saw his smile fall a bit, “I was on my way to see you, and now you are here”.

“Kate?” He asked worried, “What is wrong?”

Kate checked their surroundings before speaking. “There is something I have come across. You cannot ask how, just know that it was by accident. I need you to read it”. She bit her lower lip, and took the chapter out of her satchel. He frowned as he took it and started reading it. The more he read, the paler he turned; the more he saw, the more he rubbed his face with his hands. Kate waited.

“Kate …” he was worried. He looked at her with dread in his face, like he thought she would see him in a different light. As if he would stop being who he had been until that point.

“I don't care,” she told him, and he saw him swallow, “That's- that's not why I'm giving them to you. I got a hold of them by chance, but it was so plainly written that even Berbrook would have figured it out”. She raised to the tip of her toes and dried a solitary tear on his cheek. “ You need to be more careful Ben,” she told him, “Not about how you feel, but about what other people do with it. I cannot see you hurt”.

Benedict took her hand in both of his and kissed it with enough force to bruise one of them. She was sure he would have hugged her had they not been in public. Kate swallowed her own tears.

“I will see you next week,” she said.

“Next week?” he asked.

“At your mother's party? Edwina really wants to go,” she explained.

“You are something else, Kate Sheffield,” he told her. He walked her back to the house, telling her little stories about what she had missed of the _ton_ , distracting her and making her laugh like she had not for a while. 

The house was silent when she entered, which meant Edwina and Mary had finished their row, so Kate walked up the stairs hoping for the sweet pleasure of dreamless sleep. Her sister apparently had different plans for them.

Edwina was sitting on Kate's bed, tapping her foot against the carpet while Ellie helped Kate with her hair. Not long after all the pins had been taken out, Edwina dismissed their maid with a sweet smile and started brushing Kate's long hair.

“What did you do?” Kate deadpanned.

“Why would you assume ...”

“Edwina.”

She was met with silence for a while.

“I did something,” she finally confessed.

“What did you do?”

“I asked for a favour.”

“From?” All that silence was surely a terrible omen.

“I asked Lord Bridgerton to inquire about Lor Perceval”.

“Edwina,” Kate sighed.

“No, listen. I was not going to do it,” she started as Kate stood up from her dresser, “but there is something about him I do not like. I cannot put my finger on it, nor do I have the means or the connections to find it out, but he can”.

“And in return?” Kate huffed.

“He asked for a favour,” Kate's mind ran a million miles an hour, there was only so much one's heart could break. “I only talked to him because he came to give you this”. Edwina stretched her hand and offered her an envelope. “Promise me you will read it”.

“If it comes from the Viscount you can throw it in the fire”.

“Kate!” she said, “you can do whatever you want with it afterwards, we do not even have to go to their party next week, just-” Edwina took a sharp breath, “just promise me you shall read it”. When Kate nodded, her sister placed the letter in her hands, apologetically kissed her cheek and left for her own rooms.

She certainly didn't think she would be able to sleep then, so she opened the blasted thing.

* * *

**B** enedict walked into his study without knocking – again – and threw some kind of papers into the lazy fire that he kept in it.

“Kate Sheffield,” Benedict said pointing at his brother with no further explanation.

“Benedict?” Anthony asked. Had he seen her? Had he talked to her? Was she all right?

“Kate Sheffield better come back from the country with a Bridgerton ring on her finger or I will have to give her one myself”.

“Benedict”. Anthony glared at his brother.

“Do not be a blunderbuss, Anthony,” he said leaving once again.

* * *

  
 **T** he high branches of the tree she was sitting under moved with the soft wind that played in the surface of any and every creature in the Bridgerton estate in Kent. The strands of hair that framed Kate's face after they had slipped from her updo danced along with the breeze as she concentrated on the book on her knees. Both of her index fingers kept the pages put, while her left ring finger glided between the pages she had already read ensuring that the letter that occupied her sleepless nights never left her side. 

She had fled the comforts of Aubrey Hall after Mary had struggled to engage in conversation with Lady Bridgerton. Kate really could only handle so much of the melodrama around her. She hoped Penelope and her family would arrive sooner rather than later, so they could keep each other company. They had arrived earlier in the day because Mary had secretly – not very secretly – hoped that the Viscount would be away during the morning, and so, the Sheffields would avoid him until the evening. Edwina and Kate had also been strictly forbidden to spend any time alone with the Bridgerton boys. They should have stayed back in London.

She looked up when she heard someone skipping along the grass in her direction. The chestnut-haired boy stopped in his tracks and watched her with wide eyes.

“You are Kate Sheffield,” he said. Kate smiled at the astounded look in his face.

“I am,” she said, “are you the youngest Bridgerton?” she asked. He had to be.

“I am second to last!” he squeaked indignantly.

“I am sorry,” she smiled.

“My name is Gregory,” he said bowing to her. Oh, that child sure had absorbed a little from each of his brothers.

“A pleasure to meet you, Gregory. Should you not be with your tutors?”

“I made a deal with my mother last week,” he said grinning. “She told me what to say, and I repeated it to my older brother, so now my younger sister and I both got to come to the country, and I get two days off my studies”.

“You drive a hard bargain, I see”.

He shrugged. “I really wanted to come”. He kicked a blade of grass away from him and walked to her before asking if he could sit with her. “What are you reading?” he asked.

“A novel,” she sighed.

Gregory wrinkled his nose. “Oh,” he said.

“It is the most boring thing I have read in a long time,” she whispered to him as if it were a secret. His eyes widened in glee. “And you?” she asked, “if rumours are to be believed you must be searching for a frog”.

His smile turned even bigger at that, “I am”.

“Would you like some help?” she asked.

He jumped up and bowed once again with a flourish, “Only if a fine lady like yourself wishes”.

She laughed aloud and stood up as well. “Oh, Gregory Bridgerton, you shall be trouble”.

They looked for frogs for what Kate was sure had been hours, while Gregory babbled about this and that. He told her over and over again how his sisters would never help him with his pranks, and how his favourite target was usually his oldest brother. How Colin was the easiest to annoy, because one only had to make sure to tamper with his food. When they finally decided to return to the house – frogless but utterly entertained – Kate was sure Mary would give her a stern talking to. Gregory, ever the gentleman, guided through the nooks and crannies of the gardens.

The giggle that was leaving her throat cut itself when she saw him pacing in a small rose garden surrounded by bushes. He froze when he saw them, and Kate saw how his brown eyes took every little detail in. He took her in from the top of her head to her feet, stopping to assess every change and details of her face. He had this sorrow buried deep in his chocolate eyes that disarmed her before she had realized she needed a weapon. His hands opened and closed at his sides and his mouth was open, but he looked in trouble to choose the right words.

“Anthony, I met Kate!” Gregory said next to her, ignoring their sudden stillness.

“Gregory, would you let me speak with Miss Sheffield? If she wishes?” Anthony asked.

“But I was going to show her-”

“Please?” he asked, more to Kate than his brother.

Kate turned to Gregory. “I will catch you before tea,” she said, and bid who she considered the most charming Bridgerton farewell. 

They stood still for a second longer. Anthony took a step towards her, then another. Kate took a step back when he walked another two. It was surely close enough. He looked like she thought he would had she hit him across the face.

“Miss Sheffield,” he said her name almost like a prayer.

“You asked to talk,” she interrupted.

His eyes softened, and his chest expanded the tiniest bit. “You read it?” he asked.

“I almost threw it away,” she confessed, “but my sister made me promise”.

“I thought-” he gulped down whatever averted his voice to sound normal. Kate on her end, kept reminding herself not to cry. “I wanted to explain myself, tell you that I regret every moment of that night, I-”

“Every moment?” she asked.

He looked up pained, “Every moment since I let you go with Miss Featherington”.

“So you shan't apologize for our moment in the hallway?”

“Do you want me to?” he asked, his voice strangled. He inhaled before continuing, “because it would be disingenuous, and I promised myself I would not lie to you”.

“My Lord,” she whispered.

“I cannot regret it Miss Sheffield. It may make me a horrible man, but please do not ask me to regret it. I shall lament my words to the Baron, and every way I have insulted you before or since, but please, don't ask me to repent the good moments we have shared”. He waited for her to say something.

“You always know the wrong thing to say and just the right way to hurt me, Lord Bridgerton”.

“Miss Sheffield! I-”

“Was your aim to mock me? To laugh behind my back? Do you despise me with such fervour, my Lord, that you insist in wounding me so?”

“No, Miss Sheffield, I swear.”

“Then why did you do it?” she demanded, her voice heavy with emotion. 

“Because he aggravates me to unsuspected limits!” he exclaimed. “He always does. He is loud with his opinions even if when shown that he is not right, he is stubborn and rude, and always demands more than he knows he is owed”. He looked to the sky before continuing. “So that day, when I saw him walking your way I asked him. I asked him point-blank if he planned on trapping you. He had the audacity to smile and taunt me about it. I reacted – horrendously I admit – and blurted the first hurtful words, the most hurtful words I could find”.

“Because the only way I could be desirable to a man ought to be in some kind of twisted competition with Viscount Bridgerton?” she said, hurt once again.

“Lord, no. That is not at all what I meant”.

“Then explain whatever popped into your brain at that moment, my Lord. Because I admit I had been foolish enough to consider us some kind of reluctant friends. I had had the absurd idea that we had formed some kind of understanding, and that you would care to be, at least, civil towards me. If not for my sake, then for those around us who seem to hold us in some fashion of esteem. So imagine my devastating surprise when I understood how utterly wrong I was”.

They stood still for a moment. He looked up once again, shook his head and walked to her before she had time to react. He took one of her gloved hands in both of his and looked her in the eye, while she got lost in his. She could feel every curve os his body impossibly close to hers.

“I crave a boon,” he whispered.

“A boon?” she asked, “you still feel I owe you a thing?”

“I only need a chance. One. A chance to show you that despite all the terrible ways I have behaved in towards you, I am not the monster you perceive me to be. I have been presumptuous, and angry when you did not deserve it. I have hurt you with my words and I have confused you with my actions. However here, right this moment and onwards, I want nothing more than a chance to prove myself to be a good man. Please”.

He said the last word with such desperation that Kate's resolve broke. “One chance,” she said, “that is all”.

“I swear, that is all”.

He took a step back without letting her hand go and kissed her knuckles. Once again resurrecting the spark she was always sure she had managed to kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This End Notes are going to be long.
> 
> First of all, I want to thank everyone one of you who has kudoed, commented or somehow interacted with the story. Holy crap I did not expect this. I have to admit that I kind of lost my passion to write a few years ago, and coming back, and writing for the wonderful community that we are forming here is a true pleasure. It's been a very long time since I have felt so inspired to write and share, and that's thanks to every one of you who is reading and supporting the creators in the fandom, so thank you. Truly.
> 
> Now, for the chapter. Holy crap I don't think I have written so much angst into a single update, ever. It was hard, and it pushed me to write differently, and I hated it until I reread it and I loved it. Except that first Kate bit. I cried my eyes out writing that.
> 
> "Then why did you put it there and break all of our hearts?" 
> 
> Because I ain't the only one hurting. Nah ah.
> 
> In other news, mama Mary has claws, and Anthony doesn't know how sharp they are just yet. Edwina is co-captain of the SS. Kathony (with Benedict, of course), and poor baby Pen needs to hit Colin in the head with something sharp. Also, no "period normal homophobia" in my fics, I refuse to write that. Also, I haven't read past book 4, but Gregory Bridgerton has a big ol' crush on Kate in this. It's happening, I can't be stopped.
> 
> My last exam was pushed to Thursday and I travel back home on Friday, so no new chapter until next Sunday I don't think. It depends on how well I am studying and the grasp I have in the material, but longer chapters take longer to write, and I don't I'll be able to have anything up during the week.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you!! Comments are always appreciated!!


	6. The F Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festivities in Aubrey Hall are about to begin, what could the very first day of the Bridgerton party hold for us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's light!  
> It's fluffy!  
> It's a break from all the angst (for the most part)!  
> It's Anthony being a dumb-dumb!  
> It's Kate being a dumb-dumb!  
> It's Polin in the back if you squint!  
> It's me losing my mind!

**The F Word**

* * *

**T** en heartbeats. That is the number of times blood was pumped while the Viscount held her hand. His eyes had trapped hers in an impossibly sweet gaze that she held until the chirping of the birds around them quieted and the only noises she could hear were their breaths playing as they entered one and left the other and the constant thumping on her chest.

She would kiss him if the circumstances were different. As hard and gut-wrenching it was to admit, she longed to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull him down until the space between them didn't exist. She wanted her lips on his, and his hands on her.

It terrified her. He had already had the power to hurt her when they had disliked each other. Even more when their relationship had turned to something that mixed their kinship and that other feeling she could never really place. But then, at that moment. she knew he could leave one day with utter destruction in his wake, and she could not afford it. Not when any other reason to want her forgiveness so ardently was unknown to her.

“Kaaate!” they heard Mary call from somewhere near the maze that were the gardens.

“You need to hide,” Kate told him taking her hand back

“What?”

“Now!”

“Surely your mother-”

“I fear for your life if Mary finds me anywhere alone with you, my Lord”.

“Kate! Darling?”

Kate stole one last look and walked towards Mary's voice. She turned left once, and was about to turn again when she saw where her stepmother was.

“Kate!” Mary said sounding relieved, “come, darling, we are expected for luncheon soon”.

“I thought we were to keep to ourselves until the rest of the guests arrived,” Kate said. She walked briskly to hook her arm with Mary's.

“So did I, but Lady Bridgerton insists,” she answered walking back to the house and clearly none too happy about it.

“Mary-”

“Do not Mary me, Katharine. Now, I may not know what happened almost a fortnight ago but I do know you. I know that the only person who could decompose your spirit like so is that man. We will bear up this week in the country, and then we will go back to London, were both Edwina and you will find good matches”. She patted Kate's hand as she finished.

“What about that saying? _“She will marry a Duke … or a Bridgerton”_?”

"Then we will have to find you both a Duke each”.

“Mary …” She stopped their walk back.

“No, Kate, listen. It is not a secret that we need good matches for both you and your sister. I will not lie to you about it. It is also true that when the Viscount took an interest in you sister, I was relieved. I, however, will not be able to sleep at night if one of my daughters is sentenced to an utterly anguished future because I pushed them into the arms of a dreadful man”.

“I hate that my reaction that night is causing such judgement”.

“Darling,” Mary said pushing her chin up with her hand, “whatever it was that had you in such disarray is valid. Your beliefs and impressions are always legitimate, and I should hate to see or hear you doubt yourself because of what you may consider a moment of weakness. I cannot in good conscience ignore them”.

“But Edwina-”

“Your sister shall be fine. We all shall”.

Mary pulled her along once again, but Kate stood in the same spot in the gardens trying to keep her tears at bay. In the two weeks that she had been pondering over her feelings, she had never let herself think that they were anything but entitled fantasies. Having Mary voice it changed her own perception of the entire situation: because if her feelings were valid, she had the right to feel them.

It was simple. So utterly simple that she could laugh. If she had a right to her feelings they were real; and if her feelings were real then, maybe, so were his. Then, his words weren't as empty as she schooled herself to think them as, they could have meaning. If he meant them she had the right to demand answers beyond his excuses – the excuses he was giving her still.

So the Baron made the Viscount lose his temper, he needn't insult her for that. So he had thought it was all a ploy to trap her, and that stupid, pea-sized brain of his had jumped at the option to throw a schoolboy barb at someone he did not like. The new understanding of the place her own feelings had in the situation, and the different perspective it provided allowed her the freedom of action she had thought to be bereft of just that morning.

 _I crave a boon,_ he had said, and now she had the license to make him work for it. If Mary allowed her to be near any member of the Bridgerton family, that was.

“What if he apologized?” Kate asked innocently. Mary, of course, was having none of it.

“Has he?” she asked narrowing her eyes.

“He sent a letter,” Kate admitted.

“How?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me, Kate. How did a letter sent by that man enter my house? Did the other Bridgerton boy give it to you the other day?”

“No, it was in my room. I do not know how it got there”. She was not going to throw Edwina to the lioness that had possessed their mother.

“Did you bring it with you?” Mary asked.

“I have it here,” Kate answered, and Mary did the most unladylike thing Kate had ever seen her do: she rolled her eyes.

“Let us see it, then,” she said, eagerly asking for it with her hand. Kate looked between the pages in her book and found the papers in between. “Has he approached you since?”

Kate stilled.

“Katharine Grace Sheffield”.

“He asked for forgiveness again,” Kate confessed.

“When”. It wasn't a question, not really. Kate had never been on the receiving end of this version of Mary, and frankly, it was terrifying.

“Just now”. The horrified look on Mary's face froze Kate to the core.

“UNCHAPERONED?”

“Mary, please, someone will hear”.

“You will surely cause me a headache today,” she said shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. She then took Anthony's letter from Kate's hand before piercing her with her blue eyes and firmly declaring, “no more Bridgerton boys for you. Not in a group of at least two other people to every Bridgeton boy present”. She took Kate's hand and gently pulled her towards the house once again before stopping once more and saying, “and no more rose gardens. Especially not alone.”

“Yes, Mary”. Kate bit her tongue at the sudden need to say, _Mother_.

“Now, let us go or we shall be late for luncheon, and we both need to change”.

* * *

**H** e used one of the less known entrances to access the house on his way back from the gardens fully aware that it was only the beginning of his path to some kind of redemption. He hadn't known he had hurt her so. He had known he had upset her, that he had humiliated her, but he had always assumed she had been more furious than she had been wounded.

Or maybe, just maybe … No. There was no one he could lie to in the soliloquy he was concocting in his mind. He had just selfishly felt his guilt would be grander than the pain he had caused. Feelings, however and in a way he had surprisingly failed to remember, were not facts.

The hole in his chest dug deeper every time some new detail pertaining to Kate's days away from society was made known to him. It had been almost unbearable when he had seen her in the gardens, pale and guarded, bereft of the arsenal of quick quips and cutting words she had accustomed him to. She looked like an injured being ready for the last fight, and the careful speech he had been rehearsing flew away from his mind.

He would get back on her good graces, however. He thankfully had time to plan his next move. Their guests weren't expected while the family enjoyed private luncheon, and he could excuse himself to work for a while before tea. That would buy him some time.

Anthony walked into his room in Aubrey Hall and untied his cravat without looking. He was pulling on his shirt when he noticed his mother, rearranging different clothes on top of his bed.

“Mother?”

“Oh, Anthony you are here”.

“Yes, about to change for luncheon”.

“Good, good. I was here for the same,” Anthony frowned, “ I cannot decide if you should wear this one,” she said pointing at some clothes she had to her left, “or the other”.

“Mother, I can dress myself”. His mother looked at him and raised a single eyebrow.

“You will wear what I tell you to wear.”

“To luncheon with my siblings?” He asked confused. No. Anthony knew his mother, she had never cared what her sons wore for luncheon if they were not expecting guests. Because of course Mother would have invited someone to the meal he had decided to spend free of distractions.

“The Sheffields are lunching with us”. Anthony stood in place, because of course his own mother would derail his plans.

“I thought it was only for the family”.

“Well, they should be family soon enough, are you not planning on asking Miss Sheffield to marry you?” Anthony almost chocked.

“Mother ...”

“It was a real job to persuade Mrs Sheffield, and I expect the lot of you to be in your best behaviour. Now, Hyacinth and Gregory already promised, and Eloise has been threatened with cuts on her time with Miss Featherington, so that leaves me with you.”

“You forgot Colin”.

“Colin was in the room when I talked to Eloise, I believe he understands the consequences”.

“And Francesca”.

“Francesca does not worry me, dear, you, however, do. A great deal”.

“I happen to have wonderful manners, I should remind you”.

“Yet, they are often found lacking. Wear the blue.”

“Yes, mother.”

“And be on time”.

In that, Anthony took offence. He checked his father's pocket watch and walked the rest of the way as he took his clothes off. He washed with cool water and soap while trying to get his head in order.

Surely, all Bridgertons would be expected to sit in their usual seats. His youngest siblings usually stood to his left from youngest to eldest, then his mother on the other head of the table, followed by Daphne, then Colin, and Benedict by his side. Daphne was yet to arrive, however, and guests of his mother's tended to sit to her left, which meant two of the Sheffield ladies would seat in those empty seats. The other would seat were Benedict usually sat, to Anthony's right. Suddenly that understanding of something as absurd as the sitting chart for the meal had him on edge, because no combination os three Misses bode well for him.

He dressed again and checked his watch to make sure he was still on time – he was, of course, he was – and walked the halls until both of his younger siblings ambushed him.

“Anthony!” Hyacinth shouted as she barrelled towards him. “It is simply not fair!”

“What is?”

“That Gregory has free days and I do not”.

“I am the one who got us here!” was Gregory's indignant answer.

“All right, one by one. Hyacinth?”

“I just cannot see the use of me staying inside with my governess all day long if Gregory is going to be allowed to gallivant around without lessons. I think we should both be equal, and thus, excused from lessons for tomorrow”.

“Right, and why is Gregory free of lessons in the first place?” Anthony asked his brother.

“That is between me and Mama”.

“Is it?”

“Yes”.

“Well, not anymore,” Hyacinth sang.

“You are just jealous, is what you are!” Gregory shouted turning and walking away.

“Am not!” his sister said following.

“Are too!”

“Gregory!” Anthony said softly jogging behind them until he reached them close to the drawing-room, “We are not finished with our conversation, we agreed to bring the both of you here but that does not mean you are to neglect your studies. I expect you to go back to your tutors this very afternoon”.

“But I had an agreement with Mama!”

“And now you have a new one with me”.

Gregory turned to his younger sister, “Must you always spoil everything?”

“Must you always spoil everything?” Hyacinth mock whined.

“I shall put a frog inside your pillow!”

“You and whose army?”

“I have friends! Friends, you do not know and would help me!”

“Children!” their mother's voice boomed to their right where she stood with Colin and the three Sheffields. Mrs Sheffield wore the same face their mother did, while Edwina covered her smile with her hand and Kate bit her lip and looked anywhere but at their mothers. Their looks crossed and he bit his tongue to try and keep his own amusement at bay.

Anthony felt the storm brewing when they entered the dining area and Mrs Sheffield politely insisted that both her daughters should sit by her – firmly keeping Kate on the side furthest away from Anthony – which pushed Colin to Benedict's usual spot. His own mother counterattacked asking Mrs Sheffield to sit beside her, making Kate switch and sitting her right beside Colin. They had somehow become pawns in a chess game they knew nothing about. It was the battle of the Mamas, and the previously friendly matriarchs had found themselves on opposing sides.

“Do you understand any of this?” Colin whispered as he sat beside him, bewildered by the strained smiles on the other end of the table.

“None,” Anthony answered, but by the way her shoulders had tensed Kate did, at least in part.

The first course was served without much fuss, plates being passed around, and changing hands with what could have been seen as rehearsed precision that the three Sheffields had no trouble embracing. The conversation flowed from one end of the table to the other, Anthony remarked on the weather, then Francesca remarked on the weather, and Edwina agreed with both of them. His mother talked about the gardens, Hyacinth talked about the gardens and Mrs, Sheffield agreed that the little she had seen had been beautiful.

“Almost like a maze is it not?” Mrs Sheffield remarked, “it took me longer than I would have liked to find Kate in them when I went to fetch her for lunch. You will have to settle for painting the flowers closer to the house, Kate darling, so I can also enjoy our stay here without being beside myself with worry”. Anthony felt that was entirely aimed at him.

“Benedict told me how much you enjoy painting, Miss Sheffield,” his mother said.

“Kate's watercolours are exquisite Mama,” Eloise interjected, “I think she would really enjoy painting the roses”.

“Or any other flower really,” Mrs Sheffiels said without missing a beat, “Kate has painted so many of them during the season that she may want for a change”.

“The tulips, then,” mother said undeterred, “they are beautiful this time of year”.

“I would love to,” Kate said politely.

“I could show them to you, Miss Sheffield,” Gregory said straightening on his chair.

“If Gregory is to have the afternoon free I should like to have it to myself as well!” Hyacinth complained to Anthony.

“When Daphne arrives, maybe, and after I have finished some of the work in my study we could all go. If the Misses are agreeable of course”. Anthony smiled at Mrs Sheffield.

“Being such a large group I cannot imagine how the afternoon could be anything but fun,” Edwina said, looking her mother in the eye and gifting her a cherubic smile. Kate, who had been silent through the entire interaction tensed once again.

“Very well then,” Mrs Sheffield conceded, “how could I say no?”

There was more meaningless conversation exchanged after that. Kate would only answer if asked directly Anthony realised. She had always been comfortable around his family before, joking with Eloise and teasing Colin. He couldn't possibly have done something to upset her in the brief time they had been away from each other since their conversation in the gardens. So what was keeping her from joining the back and force of pleasantries and lighthearted comments with the rest?

She was on her best behaviour Anthony noted. She was silent, smiling through the entire meal, seen but and very rarely heard. She kept slowly eating the smallest cuts of her meal she could get away with, and the soft wine she had been served was still untouched in front of her. She sat straight, straighter than he had ever seen her sit, and moved her hands methodically in the small space she had been given at the table. She was the picture of the perfect lady, just like her sister.

Anthony absolutely hated it.

They all moved to the drawing-room for dessert, where they all spread through the larger space and smaller conversations started. Anthony walked to the liquor cabinet with Colin before heading towards Eloise, who had trapped Kate in an intense conversation. The topic was unknown to him, but by the way Kate kept fidgeting on her seat he knew she was not comfortable with it. He nodded in their direction and Colin began walking towards them.

“I just do not understand why the both of you are keeping secrets,” Eloise said piquing Anthony's curiosity, “I know Penelope found one but she refuses to tell me ...”

“What about Pen?” Colin asked. Kate looked back at the two brothers and her eyes turned harsh for a moment before she schooled her features back to the pleasant façade she had been keeping up. He frowned. It must have been the first time since Anthony had met Kate Sheffield that a disapproving look in her face had not been sent his way. It was odd. He was not sure he liked it.

Eloise thought what she was about to say for a moment. “Penelope, Kate and I are playing a game,” she declared, nervously checking that no Mama had heard.

“Eloise ...” Kate warned.

“I like games,” Colin answered.

“Yes, well, they are both cheating”.

“We are not cheating, you counted wrong,” Kate defended herself.

“I did not. It was five each, I gave you five each.”

“Then how come Penelope has four and I only have three?”

“I do not know”.

“You miscounted”.

“I did not!” Eloise said offended.

“What is this game?” Anthony asked, intrigued about the soft blush the conversation was bringing to Kate's neck and cheeks.

“A guessing game,” Eloise said, “with some minor gossip we are trying to decipher”.

“And the price?” Colin asked.

“An eclair for each guess”.

“I thought you had no more eclairs to give, Miss Sheffield,” Anthony joked as he sat in a chair beside her ignoring the daggers Mrs Sheffield was sending his way. He was having an utterly civil and innocent conversation with his sister and his almost friend, surely Mary Sheffield was not upset over that. He took the plate of biscuits away from Colin exploiting the distraction Eloise had provided and set it in his armrest before taking one of the three left.

“I will bake them myself if she drops it,” she answered almost desperate.

“Why do you always bet with eclairs anyway?” He asked her, “you do not enjoy them as much as macarons as I recall”.

“They are Penelope's favourite,” Colin answered before twisting in his seat and pestering Eloise once again, “I want in”.

“No”. Eloise and Kate said at the same time.

“Oh, be nice to your favourite brother!” Colin whined. Gregory, the sneaky weasel that he was becoming to be, came from the left and took Anthony's two remaining biscuits before he knew it was happening, and then danced away, when his left hand stretched to swat him in the back. To make matters worse, the little devil popped one in his mouth and offered the other one to Kate with the signature charming smile Anthony had overly seen in Colin's face. She, of course, took the biscuit with a sweet smile.

“Benedict is my favourite brother,” Eloise said.

“Then I am Kate's favourite Bridgerton brother!” He countered.

“No, you are not”. She said plainly, munching on her biscuit. Gregory beamed behind her.

“But twelve clues are much more easily divided by four than three,” Colin said. Anthony refrained from comment the solution was actually for Eloise to forfeit the right to an eclair and give Kate one of her clues, and that Colin's logic very clearly flawed. Then again, Colin had never been a master of the maths.

“I know how to count up to fifteen and then divide by three, dear brother,” she turned to Kate with an accusatory finger before she could talk, “and I did not miscount”.

“If I help you solve all of your clues this week will you let it rest?” Kate asked.

“You plan to team up against Pen?” Colin accused.

“She does not want to play anyway,” Kate murmured.

“Fine!” Eloise conceded, “but you must help me until we find them all”.

“Fine,” Kate huffed.

“I still want to play,” Colin complained.

“I did not invite you to play,” Eloise answered, “I planned this game for the ladies”.

“Then I want to play!” Hyacinth said coming out of nowhere.

“You are not a lady, you are a child,” Eloise retorted ignoring their sister's incensed scowl.

Their little bubble was burst when Mrs Sheffield cleared her throat behind them and asked Kate to walk with her to their rooms so they could rest before the rest of the guests arrived. As both families scurried along and emptied the drawing-room, Anthony found himself alone with the one and only Mary Sheffield.

“My Lord,” she addressed him.

“Mrs Sheffield”.

“You know I love Kate as if she were my own, even if we do not share blood.”

“I do”. Wherever that conversation was heading the future in Mrs Sheffield's good graces looked bleak for Anthony.

“Then you should understand that I will not care about your title or your fortune if you hurt my little girl”. He had not been expecting to be talked to in that way. His title and status, like Mrs Sheffield, had said, usually meant people would seldom address him in a way that could offend him. Kate's mother, it seemed, cared very little about his feelings that moment, which illustrated the general sentiment that must have been shared in their house about the eldest Brudgerton. “If I ever have an inkling that she has been crying because of you you will rue the day you crossed my daughter's path. Kate deserves every good thing in this world, and I do not care if you still do not see it. I know she has given you a chance to mend what you broke. Believe me, had my daughter not been so adamant in protecting you and confided the truth of whatever you did to hurt her, not me nor my girls would be in this house now. But alas, Kate's heart is too good, and she has asked to stay so you can be the decent man I had once thought you to be. Whatever she asks, you better bend over backwards to give it to her”.

Anthony nodded like a chastised school child, and Mrs Sheffield resumed her walk to her rooms.

Anthony excused himself and walked to his study hoping to get some sort of work done, but could not, for the life of him concentrate on the job at hand. Was that what Kate had been subjected to before luncheon? No wonder she had not been herself. He changed sitting positions at least five times, and switched tasks at least another two, but no obligation managed to keep his interest for more than a moment. He set his quill down and looked at the gardens outside his house. He remembered his mother's comment about the flowers at lunch and decided that some fresh air might clear his head.

He set foot towards the closest end of the gardens, not expecting her to be walking among the rows of tulips. Her soft lavender frock looked lovely on her in contrast with the flowers around her. He knew he should leave her alone. He had promised to prove he was a good man, and leaving her to her thoughts would probably be the right way to start, even if she were unaware of his actions. He then remembered how tense she had been at luncheon, however, and the need to ensure she was well won.

“Miss Sheffield,” he called as he approached her.

“My Lord,” she answered. He stopped far enough away that no one could take offence if they were found together.

“I see you could not resist the temptation of the tulips?”

“They really are lovely,” she said smiling, “I had never seen any.”

“Tulips?” He asked, he should remember to send some when they returned to London.

“No! I mean- My sister gets them, of course, I had never seen them on the ground”. She pointed at the flowers near her feet with both hands. He bent down and pulled one of the purple tulips as neatly as he could, before offering it to her.

“You did not have to do that,” she told him, but brought the flower to her nose nonetheless.

“I will blame Hyacinth for the mess if the gardener asks.”

“I thought you would surely throw the blame on Gregory,” she smiled.

“No,” he answered with s small sigh, “he is cross enough with me for reinstating his lessons, I think my sister should take this one”.

“I thought he had made a deal with your mother”.

“He told you?”

“Oh, we had very deep and meaningful conversations on our walk this morning, your brother and I”.

Anthony placed his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. Oh, to be a squirrel in a branch while those to talked. “I am sure you did”.

“Did you seek me out for a reason?” She asked.

“I was planning on stretching my legs for a bit when I saw you standing here. I just wanted to ask if you were feeling all right”.

“My Lord?”

“You seemed tense at luncheon”.

“Oh, I thought I had managed quite well,” she whispered, “Mary made me promise to be on my best behaviour. I assure you I had a very nice time.”

“I am glad to hear it”. He should leave, he really should. “I thought you were to rest before the other guests arrived,” he said instead.

“I escaped,” she giggled, “I waited until both Edwina and Mary were asleep and ran”. A hoot of laughter left his chest.

“She is a curious being, your mother”.

“Why?”

“Well, just looking at her one would never guess she has claws”.

“I am sorry for her attitude today. There are rules, you know? No gardens, no Bridgerton boys ...”

“Oh, I am sure there are rules, after the way she spoke to me”.

“And you decided to disregard your talk with Mary?”

“The truth that I would tell the world should I be found conversing with you here is that I was simply taking a walk in the gardens to let the food go down”.

“And the actual truth?” She asked smirking.

“Well, you do seem fond of accusing me of being a rake,” Anthony joked and a little laugh escaped her lips.

“She told you then? That I am not to be alone with you?” She asked raising her eyebrows.

“I gathered from context”.

“Yet, here you are”.

“Yet, here I am, and here you are alone, in the garden with a Bridgerton boy”.

“I would have never guessed you thought of yourself as a boy, my Lord”.

He barked a laugh, “No, I guess the only Bridgerton boy left would be Gregory, and we all know he is the most dangerous one of the lot”. They both fell into a comfortable silence.

They stood there between his mother's tulips for a time, both of them enjoying the nice weather. Kate turned her head up and faced the sun, delicately holding the flower he had given her. If Anthony hadn't been so intent on drinking in every detail of the picture in front of him the little moan that escaped her lips would have gone unheard.

The spark of lust he always felt near her hit him with the force of seven horses. He wanted nothing more than to walk to her, pull her body close to his and kiss every inch of her face and neck. He willed his feet to stay in place: he had promised Kate that he would do what he must to be her friend. He should lock his lust for her in the deepest corner of his mind. It would not do to run around lusting after one's friend. He would pay a good chunk of his fortune to keep her in his life indefinitely, and that would not happen if he let his deepest fantasies become a reality.

Or maybe, it wouldn't matter and she would be more than willing to kiss him back.

_Just as Anthony was plotting the best curse to her lips, he heard the perfectly awful sound of his younger brother's voice._

“ _Anthony!” Colin shouted out. “There you are”._

* * *

**H** e sat in one of the smaller family rooms after he had changed clothes for the evening. He had stomped to his room after the Pall Mall match, equal parts amused and irritated with his siblings and both Sheffield sisters. Kate, it seemed, found especial pleasure in him treading various bodies of water when his deepest desire was to stay dry.

Anthony had soaked in a hot bath thinking back to the events of the day, and decided that he was pleased with the progress made, before getting dressed and waiting for any of his siblings to appear. He was debating on whether to say Penelope's name out loud, which always seemed to summon Colin, when he heard Gregory's cheery voice carry from the hallway.

“... and then she hit Anthony's pink ball and sent it to the lake. To the lake, Benedict! With the mallet of death! Have I told you she chose the mallet of the death when she could have taken any other one?”

“You did, yes,” Benedict said, walking into the room Anthony was in with Gregory hot on his heels.

“She is just fantastic. She helped me search for a frog in the morning, did I tell you that?” Benedict smirked, “Do you think she will help me put one in Hyacinth's pillow?”

“Maybe, if you ask nicely,” Benedict said.

“Gregory, you are not to put any animal inside you sister's pillow”.

“But she took away my free day!”

“Actually,” Benedict interrupted, “did Anthony not do that?”

Gregory narrowed his eyes, “Yes, yes he did”.

“If I find anything in my room I will make sure to double your time with the tutors for as long as we stay in the country,” Anthony threatened. Gregory huffed and left his brothers behind ignoring Benedict's loud laughter.

“We were not expecting you until tomorrow,” Anthony told Benedict.

“Yes, well, the business I had to take care of in the city took less time than I thought,” he answered, his mood turning foul.

“Did it go well? Whatever it was?”

“It is done now, and that is that”. Anthony had not been expecting the sudden change in Benedict's humour, so he changed the subject hoping to bring his brother to brighter spirits.

“Gregory seemed pleased to have you back,” he said.

“I think that at the moment Gregory will be pleased with anyone he can babble to about Kate”.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we might have competition,” Benedict said raising his eyebrows like comedic villain in a play.

“Benedict, Gregory is twelve”.

“He is thirteen, and I think it is very sweet that he has found himself enamoured by dear Kate”.

Anthony groaned. He truly needn't another one of his brothers to join the ever-growing list of Katharine Sheffield admirers.

* * *

**S** he carefully took her hair out of the pins while Edwina finished her bath in the room they shared. They had been late for tea after the Pall Mall match and Mary hadn't been too pleased with them. Kate had swiftly countered that they had been complying with the rules she had laid down in the morning, and that there was no way they could have declined the invitation without being outright rude. Mary had known she was right, of course, but she had still given her the cold “ _I do not like that tone, Katharine_ ” treatment.

She had sent her daughters off to ready for the evening soon after, warning them that she would go to their room after greeting Lady Featherington, and that she expected at least one of them to be out of the bath by then.

A young maid knocked on their door soon after and brought a small tea set to the bedroom.

“I was asked to bring you tea, Miss”.

“Thank you,” Kate answered before asking the girl for her name (Alice, as she shyly said).

“You are welcome, Miss”. She placed the tea tray on the small table and carefully arranged the cups and sweets around. Kate's eyes fixed themselves in the bright pink macarons that filled one of the plates. “Miss?” Alice asked, “would you like something else? Cook put them there because the Viscount told her they are your favourite, but I can bring you something else.”

“No need, Alice. This is lovely,” Kate answered softly smiling at the sweet gesture.

Edwina splashed out of the tub in the most ungraceful manner, and rushed to the room tightly tying a soft towel around her body and leaving small pools of water in her wake.

“Oh, would you like me to fill the tub for you now, Miss?”

“That would be wonderful,” Kate answered, eyeing her fidgety sister.

“Raspberry macarons?” Edwina grinned.

“Do not start”.

“He does not even know my favourite colour, but he makes sure to send tea with your sweet of choice”.

“Well, you never tell them which one it is ...” Kate played the matter down.

“They all assume it to be blue,” Edwina said annoyed, “because of my eyes”. Edwina batted her eyelashes dramatically.

“Stop being a brat,” Kate told her, taking a brush in her hand and walking towards her sister as Edwina poured each of them a cup.

Mary arrived and shooed Kate into the bathtub when she had been halfway through Edwina's long locks, adamant on choosing her daughters' dresses. She made quick work of her bath, knowing Mary would start rushing them the closer it got to dinner time. She really refused to be caught in the wrong side of her stepmother's temper for the second time that day.

“Lady Bridgerton insists on showing me her gardens,” Mary huffed. “I will have to rope Portia into coming with us”.

“I should think Lady Bridgerton would be much more akin to you than Lady Featherington Mama,” Edwina said.

“Lady Featherington is not that bad,” Mary said convincing none of her two daughters.

“Mary,” Kate started.

“Dry yourself, darling,” she cut, “your dress is on the bed”.

She was dressed immediately after she had been deemed dry enough, and her hair was pulled up in one of the more simple fashions. She took some of the rouge in her finger and used it in the centre of her lips before massaging the excess between her fingers and tapping it on her cheeks. Mary gave her the silver necklace she had originally brought into the room for Edwina, declaring it would look better on her than her sister. She then pulled said sister along to the other room to choose some other jewellery for her.

Kate was waiting for them when Penelope walked out of her own room.

“Penelope!” Kate said smiling.

“Kate! How lovely to see you,” she said before lowering her voice and whispering, “Thank heaven you are here, Eloise is being over insistent”.

“She cornered me in the drawing-room after luncheon. In front of everyone”.

“She did not,” Penelope groaned.

“I promised to help her win if she lets us be”.

“We should just have given her her brother's chapters, see if she wanted to play this stupid game then. You burned yours, I presume?”.

“Yes,” Kate lied. She hadn't. She had given Benedict his and she had hidden Anthony's deep inside her closet. And she knew it was Anthony's. The over descriptive soprano he had been known to consort with had made it abundantly clear in the first paragraph.

“You need to get rid of it!” Penelope said horrified. Damn Penelope, why was she so perceptive?

“I will, I just have not read it in its entirety yet. And what if I am wrong?”

“Sure, Kate”.

“Should we go downstairs?” She asked instead.

“Let me tell my mother.”

* * *

**S** he was walking about the room after dinner, avoiding the flood of bachelors that had decided to join the ladies after getting up to no good in their time away from them. Penelope was off playing detective with Eloise, and Kate had offered to fetch some lemonade for Mary and Edwina. Kate stood behind one of the lesser-known gentlemen of the _ton_ , Mr Renton, she believed, quietly stretching her hand to take them, when he turned around and offered to take them for her.

“Thank you,” she said politely.

“You are welcome Miss Sheffield,” he said smiling, “I heard about your victory in the match this afternoon, I believe congratulations are in order”.

Kate smiled but paid him no mind. She could see the three eldest Bridgerton brothers colluding not too far away from them. Her eyes fixed on the Viscount, who she could see without sparking any suspicion if she looked from above Mr Renton's left shoulder. Benedict and Colin were talking in whispers, and Anthony's frown kept turning deeper and deeper.

“Oh, you must be wondering about my mark,” Mr Reston said suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?” Kate asked taking a sip from the drink intended for Edwina.

“My mark,” he insisted, pointing to a darker patch of skin that peaked from his cravat. “It is a birthmark. Some say it resembles Prussia”. Kate choked on the lemonade.

“Do they?” Kate said, but didn't stay behind for his answer. “I believe my mother is calling for me”.

She rushed back to her designated spot beside Penelope who was still humouring Eloise. Kate giggled as she approached them and quietly said, “I found one”.

“One of mine?” Eloise asked.

“No, one of mine”.

“Do tell!” Penelope said with enough sarcasm to overflow the Thames.

“Mr Renton has a birthmark that resembles Prussia”.

“Oh, is this about your game?” A young voice said behind them, and the three of them turned to find the youngest Bridgerton listening in.

“Hyacinth,” Eloise said, “I thought you were meant to be upstairs”.

“But I want to be at the party!” She complained.

“Go, now”.

“It is not fair! Gregory is around somewhere!”

Eloise sighed, “You are such a tattletale!” As if on cue, Anthony passed beside them dragging a very grumpy Gregory by the collar. Hyacinth tried to hide behind Penelope and Kate, but her eldest brother had spotted her and there was little she could do.

“Hyacinth,” he said, “bed. Now”. He disappeared upstairs with the two youngest.

It was not long before a gentleman came to invite Eloise for a game of cards she had apparently promised on her quest to match the scandals to a name. She had pleaded with them as she was taken to the other side of the drawing-room, but at Kate's suggestion of a rescue mission Penelope had uttered a cold “let her suffer for a bit”.

Of course, it would not do to leave them without a Bridgerton it seemed, because Benedict approached them as soon as they had been left to their own devices.

“Miss Featherington, Miss Sheffield,” he greeted them.

“Mr Bridgerton,” they both said as he moved and placed himself between them.

“I have a point to make,” he said smiling. “I bet my brothers I could make the two of you laugh before they could.”

“Betting, Benedict?” Kate said.

“It is just good fun, Kate,”

“And you just need to make us laugh?” Penelope asked smirking.

“Only that,” he said and winked for good measure.

Penelope tilted her head back and let a loud cackle go. “Like that?” she asked after, making the other two giggle.

“Oh Penelope,” he said bringing her hand to his lips, “that was just perfect”.

Kate was about to ask about her friend's strange behaviour when Colin appeared out of nowhere to ask Penelope for a turn about the room, leaving Kate and Benedict alone. She hit his arm without warning.

“What was that about?” Benedict asked rubbing the spot with his other hand.

“What did you do?” Kate accused.

“Can I not wish to enjoy the pleasure of your company?”

“Benedict.”

“Kate.”

“Miss Sheffield, brother,” Anthony said walking to them.

“My Lord,” she answered.

“What are we looking at?” Anthony asked drinking from what she assumed was brandy or whiskey.

“Dear Colin with dear Penelope, of course,” Benedict grinned.

“Of course,” the Viscount smirked.

“You two are terrible,” she told them.

“We are not”.

“We take offence”.

“No, you do not.”

“No, we do not,” they answered at the same time.

“The two of you are worse than the Mamas. You will spook him. He is like a little foal and you two will spook him from Pen”.

“I am a wonderful matchmaker, if you should know,” Benedict said in mock outrage.

“You are a disaster and the three of us know it”. Kate followed Penelope and Colin around the room. They did make a beautiful pair.

“Yes Benedict, Miss Sheffield is wise, listen to Miss Sheffield,” Anthony said surprising them all.

“My Lord,” she told Anthony, “since your brother claims to be the connoisseur of all romantic matters, we ough to tell your mother, nay, all the Mamas about it. We cannot, in good conscience let all that knowledge be wasted in such a small percentage of the marriage mart”.

“You are unquestionably right, Miss Sheffield,” he said with a merry smile, “imagine all of the lucky members of the _ton_ that will come to him for his unprecedented wisdom and invaluable advice. Why, we should seek Lady Featherington first, she will be our best ally to share this joyous news”.

“I think I preferred it when the two of you despised one another”. Kate laughed and Anthony joined her.

“Anyhow, stop pushing Colin towards Penelope,” she told them sternly.

“No, I don't think we will,” the Viscount said. Traitor.

“Then, when and I say when not if, it goes horribly wrong I will somehow manage to make your life miserable”.

“Not if you never found out!” Benedict countered.

“Oh, I'm sure I could somehow get a subscription for Whistledown in Somerset”.

A sudden look of sadness crossed the Viscount's face, and for a moment Kate let herself believe it had something to do with her unavoidable return to her childhood town. It didn't, she knew it didn't. As things stood between them he was still courting her sister, and she had still to give him her blessing to marry her. If she were raised like some of the other ladies of the _ton,_ if her last name were Cowper or if she cared nothing of her sister she would probably succumb to the little voice inside her that urged her to be selfish. Her name was Sheffield, however, and she loved Edwina more than she loved herself. She had no dowry, and she was no diamond of the first water. The only way she would be able to keep her newfound friend with her would be if he stayed by her sister's side. Time would help. So would space, be it back home or somewhere else. It would not be enough, but it would be something. She cleared her throat and looked about the room and caught Mary's intense stare, so she bid the brothers farewell and claimed to be in the mood to play cards.

Eloise, who was purposefully losing every round so she could slip away from the flock of suitors she had managed to attract, grabbed her by the forearm as soon as she had been close enough. She spent the rest of the night gossiping with her friends until they eventually found enough bachelors that ensured Eloise to have her full of eclairs.

Mary escorted both of her daughters to their room after Lady Bridgerton had announced it was time to retire, and hugged them both tight. All was well.

Then the first drops of rain hit the window in their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long notes again. So, first and foremost: thank you for all your well wishes for my last exam, it went well :D
> 
> Second of all: sorry. I know I was supposed to update on Sunday, but it turns out that when you lock yourself up for weeks because you want to study your family and friends want to see you once you are free. There's also a new Modern Kathony AU that my mind has decided I need to write and I couldn't concentrate on anything else for a couple of days. I started writing this on Saturday hoping I would have it on time, but I hit a wall with this chapter (all the ramblings about it are on Tumblr), and I had to work on it longer than I would have liked. 
> 
> On the other hand, I'm happy with this chapter. It's a bit different from what I've been writing for this, but I felt that we needed a break from the angst and enjoy a bit of time with the dumb-dumbs before there's more of it (don't worry it's coming).
> 
> So, for the important bit. I tried to follow the original premise of the fic and add the scenes that we don't see in the book. I had to change the scene in the tulip garden so it would fit this story a bit better, but I left the Pall Mall game untouched, for example. Should I keep doing that? Do you guys want me to rewrite what happens on their second day in Aubrey Hall? Because I don't really know what to do with that.
> 
> Also, to all of those who don't want Anthony to be forgiven so easily, I hear you, we are in the same boat, he is going to have to earn it little by little. It's just the book doesn't give me much time for build-up and redemption, the bee sting is like day two of the Bridgerton party (I've reread those chapters so many times this week my brain is going to melt).
> 
> Which brings me to my next point: I don't know how long this is going to be. As of my story notes today I have something planned for possibly 14 chapters + an epilogue, but who knows? So updates may be once a week from now on because I really want to write other one-shot ideas that I have as well as that Modern AU I told you about.
> 
> Anyway! Thanks for all the love, as always! And let me know all your thoughts!!!


	7. The Kiss That Was Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post bee. That's it. That's the summary you get. Love you though!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite one yet I think hihi

**Chapter 7: The Kiss That Was Not**

* * *

**N** ineteen little framed pictures: ten in one of the tables, nine in the one beside it.

Five bookcases, seven shelves each, filled to the brim. She could count fourteen books on the shelf that didn't look as packed as the rest. Kate had tried and failed to multiply thirty-five by fourteen three times in her mind, her hands aching for some kind of paper she wasn't allowed to have.

Six potted flowers.

A big desk to one corner.

Two tea tables

Two blue chaises on opposite ends of the room and five chairs scattered about the room.

The third time Benedict had walked in front of the four big windows, sending confused looks her way.

Anthony sitting straight and serious in one of the chaises, oceans away.

Kate tense on the other.

Two furious Mamas.

In their defence – Mary would argue they had none – Kate and Anthony were not entirely at fault. She had wanted to walk in the gardens after barely sleeping the night before, and he … Well, Kate didn't know what Anthony had been doing in the gardens but it had all been perfectly innocent until the stupid bee made an appearance.

It could also have been much worse. Kate didn't know how yet, but she was sure it could. She had seen them first, she had been the one sat facing them after all. Her mother and his mother walking as far from each other as the path in the garden would allow. Until they saw them. Until she pushed him away and jumped as far away as her legs had permitted.

It hadn't mattered. They had descended on them like hawks on unsuspecting prey.

There had been one rule in her years as a tireless child living in the country: if one were to hurt themselves (it didn't matter how much or how little) one was to let Mary fuss or suffer the consequences. Kate froze when her stepmother rushed to her side reaching for her with utter terror on her face.

 _Darling, just tell me if you are hurt_. Kate's heart constricted in her chest as she remembered the way Mary's eyes had jumped about, half checking on Kate, half planning for their escape. “I was stung by a stupid bee”, Kate had said needing to calm her mother. It took Kate assuring her three times for Mary to calm herself enough before the frantic panic in her gaze switched to ice and she spun around ready to murder Lord Bridgerton. Kate was sure murder had been the goal.

Instead, Anthony had been saved by the most unlikely ally: Miss Featherington. She had been followed by both Penelope and Colin. Kate thought, had the shock not taken permanent residence in her body, she would have found the irony of Portia Featherington saving anyone from scandal funny.

There had been clipped explanations about Kate, and the bee, and their need to hurry back to the house. “Back to London,” Mary had muttered so only Kate could hear her. Lady Violet had been faster than the Sheffields, however, and insisted Kate should be looked at and treated in the family wing, dragging them all (both Sheffields and Anthony) to the room they were currently sat at.

In complete, bitter and restless silence.

So Kate kept counting: the drawers in the desk, the candles in the candelabra, the number of times Anthony would tap his foot down before trying to start a conversation and then closing his mouth … Kate doubted the growing wet spot in her dress was helping the situation, but a maid had brought her some ice wrapped in a serviette and someone had complained every time she had taken it from her skin. It had been the only moment Mary's hands had left Kate's shoulders, to pull her hand back in place against the red welt the bee had left behind.

She took a breath in order to talk, but Mary's hands pushed her down like every other time she had been brave enough to try it. It was truly and plainly ridiculous: both of them sat down like chastised children with their mothers keeping close watch behind them. Nothing had happened, all was well, and she had had enough of the stuffy room, and the chairs, and the at least four hundred and ninety books.

“It was a bee,” Kate said ignoring the pressure on her shoulders. Anthony looked up at her. “It was a stupid bee sting”.

“I know, darling,” Mary said gripping her tighter.

“Then that is that,” Kate followed, “We both know it was a bee, you both know it was a bee ...” Mary walked around and sat beside her.

“You do realise how close you were to being ruined?” Mary said incensed, “I asked Portia Featherington to walk with us for heaven's sake, were it not because the youngest Miss Featherington decided she would like a walk about the gardens as well and delayed her she would have happened upon you two just like we have”.

Thank the Lord for Penelope.

“But she was not!” Kate pleaded, “so there is no harm done”. Kate knew Mary wanted to protest. Had they both been alone in their rooms (packing for London most likely) Mary would have been pacing, and cursing (Kate had never seen her stepmother curse, but she looked like she would very much wish to do so in that moment), and damning Anthony Bridgerton to the deepest circle of Hell. The only reason she had been quiet during the time they had been kept in that wretched room, Kate knew, was their social standing. There was no way the Sheffields would survive unscathed if they managed to insult their hosts. Mary knew it, and she was aware Kate knew it too.

Mary set her jaw and looked away before nodding. It was one of those rare stances when either of them really, unequivocally desired some sliver of power that would one way or another grant either of them the satisfaction they were doubtlessly owed. Alas, it was not to be. “We should go pack,” Mary sentenced.

“No! Wait!” Anthony had jumped from his seat. His fists opened and closed by his sides, and his eyes kept changing his point of focus from Kate, to Mary to his mother. He looked like he was searching for the right words in his head.

“What could there possibly be to wait for, my Lord? After you pounced on my daughter even after I spoke with you yesterday, after the blatant disregard for her person and her reputation after-” Mary asked.

“I would like to explain myself,” he cut and looked for his mother, a rare moment of him needing aid instead of providing it. Kate took Mary's hands and stilled her by her. She really should let her stepmother decide what was best by that time, but something in the frantic tone of his voice yearned for her to stop. “My father was killed by a bee,” he said, and Kate felt her heart contract for him. “He was fine one moment and dead the next”. He was struggling to chain the words he meant to say, stopping every few words that formed a sentence. “When I saw that Kate had been- that Miss Sheffield had been stung I-” Lady Bridgerton walked to her son and placed a hand on his forearm. “The irrational part of my brain acted before I could think it through,” he said having recovered a bit, “it was careless of me but it was never my intention ambush her or mistreat her in a way that would ruin our chances in friendship. I- I really thought she would drop dead at my feet if I did not do what was needed to-”.

He sounded almost desperate, like he would bleed for them to believe him, and yet, during his entire speech, his eyes had never left Kate's. It was like he might have been pleading with her mother, but he vehemently needed Kate to believe him. She waited for the thousands of warning voices to fill her head like they always would whenever he spoke so ardently to her. They never came. She couldn't dismiss the way he spoke to her anymore, not when he had been so sweet to her the previous night.

Mary had looked down to their joint hands deep in thought. Then, she nodded, accepting the explanation before brushing Kate's loose strands of hair away from her face. She then brought her hand to her cheek, drying a solitary tear brought by the Viscount's fervent speech. Irrationality had, ultimately, been the trend of the day.

“All is well,” Kate said looking up. She stood up and pulled Mary with her, unsure of what the next hours would bring. She looked outside one last time, and she allowed her eyes to link with Anthony's before heading out. If that was the last time she saw him, she would commit him to memory: his chestnut curls, and his eyes afire with concern and what looked like fear, his jaw set and his mouth unmoving no doubt biting his lower lip from the inside. If that was the last time she was ever to see him, she would remember him for looking like she felt. Lady Bridgerton started pacing.

“It might not be,” he said startling all three of them.

“My Lord?” Mary asked, tensing her shoulders and placing herself between Kate and the other two.

“He is right,” Lady Bridgerton interceded stepping between Mary and her son as well, “you were in full view of the guest wing. Portia did not see but that does not mean nobody saw”.

“You cannot go back,” he pleaded, “not yet”.

“Being here shall not help her if the rumour mill starts running”.

“Mary,” Lady Violet said, “surely rushing home will help her even less”.

Mary rubbed her hands over her face and started to pace. Kate stood still, her chest moving up and down in unrestrained asynchrony. She saw Anthony move towards her from the corner of her eye before his mother held him back. He was looking at her like it pained him to see her in distress, which made Mary walk to her and held her in her arms.

“I-” Kate started with a shaky breath, “I-”

“We shall fix this, darling”.

“I would say the solution is fairly simple,” Anthony said but figured it had been the wrong thing to say the moment his words had left him and bit his lip.

Kate turned to Mary, “It was a bee, I did-” she drew a shaky breath.

“In through the nose, darling,” Mary told her.

Kate breathed through her nose and waited a beat before speaking. “I did not want to trap anyone”. It came out strained, like the first miaow out of a kitten. Mary looked at her square in the eye.

“Nobody thinks that, dearest,” Lady Bridgerton said overcome with emotion.

“The _ton_ will,” Mary said refusing to look away from her daughter. Kate had always been an afterthought to those who enjoyed the season in London, continuously second best to Edwina. There was no way they could win. If she left, everyone would wonder why The Sheffields would leave their only chance for a decent life. If she stayed and rumours spread about them, they would both be the laughing stock of the parties to come: the plain sister that tried to steal a Viscount from the incomparable of the season. If he married her, they would all assume they had been involved in some kind of scandal.

“Not necessarily!” Anthony exclaimed, “not if we did it properly”.

“You could be seen courting this week,” Lady Bridgerton said, “we could listen for any rumours and malice, and decide from there.

“Kate?” Mary asked, but they both knew it was the most sensible approach.

“And if there are no rumours?” Kate asked.

“Then you choose,” Anthony surprised her.

“Who would believe I would break our courtship if there were one?” she countered.

“Anyone with half a brain”. He seemed so sure.

“I think,” Mary said, “that Kate would like some time to think about it”.

“Of course,” Lady Bridgerton said, standing next to Anthony and placing her arm around his back.

* * *

**S** he was looking up to the ceiling after Mary had left alone for a bit. Edwina had apparently decided to go to town instead of staying inside so she had still to tell her sister about what had happened earlier in the day. What a horrible mess, no matter how one looked at it. Kate had tried, quite literally to look at it from another angle, for she was laying with her feet propped up against the headboard, to change perspectives, but she still could not see the advantages to what had happened. To what would happen if she were to marry him.

Sure, she would have enough money to help supporting both Mary and Edwina, the Viscount was kind after all and he would not expect her to just abandon her family. He was a man known for the love he had for his family, and it was, she thought, a quality he liked in her. She had not seen him gamble and his only vices seemed to be brandy and whiskey – but never too much of them. No, her worries ran deeper than that, and at the same time, they were as shallow as the puddles after the storm of the previous night, because what if she desired him more than he desired her?

She drew little patterns on her knee with one of her fingers and thought about every time he had appeared in her dreams, about that time he had kissed her in his study, about the time he had followed her around the halls of Trowbridge house like a shadow – as if he could not let her out of his sight. Kate felt how her skin became warm beneath the chemise she was wearing as her finger slowly travelled all the way to her neck.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Miss?” A maid said startling Kate and making her jump away from the bed, “Mr Bridgerton is here to take you for a walk around the lake”. Kate stood confused in the middle of the room. He had walked to her room? He had summoned Edwina to the study the day before, certainly he wouldn't be so bold. Then again, the maid had said Mr Bridgerton and not Lord Bridgerton, so it would be either Colin or Benedict – Benedict most likely – but that still didn't explain why they hadn't summoned her downstairs. She heard whispering in the hallway. “Mr Gregory Bridgerton, Miss. He asked that I specified”.

Kate hid a laugh. “Tell him I shall be with him shortly, and that I would appreciate it if he were to wait for me downstairs”.

“I shall wait by the stairs!” came his delighted answer and Kate heard how he ran away.

“Miss?” the maid said again, “do you require assistance?”

“Please,” Kate answered after looking at the looking glass and seeing the bird's nest that was her head.

The maid that had brought the tea the previous afternoon, Alice Kate remembered, entered her room. She walked about the room, pulling a couple of dresses out while Kate untangled her hair. She had worn the lavender the previous day for Pall Mall and then changed to green for dinner, but Kate was hesitant on wearing the other blue walking dress she had brought with her. Not for the first time Kate wished Edwina or even Mary were closer to her size. She looked at her options for a moment before declaring, “The green, I think”.

“Very well, Miss,” Alice said, taking the rest from the bed, and storing them.

“Do you know who else is by the lake, Alice?” she asked. The young maid twisted her head to look at Kate surprised. Kate smiled reassuringly, she knew that not all guests would bother remembering the names of the help, but Mary had always instilled in her the importance of being nice.

“The Duke and the Duchess of Hastings, I believe. As well as Lady Bridgerton and your mother last I checked,” Alice said smiling in return.

Kate smiled as Alice pushed the last few pins into her hair and walked into her walking dress before putting her shoes on. She took her bonnet and walked downstairs where, as promised, Gregory Bridgerton was waiting with a brilliant smile on his face,

“Mr Bridgerton,” Kate said amused.

“Miss Sheffield,” he answered offering his arm, “should we go? There is a spot near a willow I would very much like to show you”. Kate smiled as he hasted her out of the house, the little devil was trouble. Instead of taking the path through the gardens, Gregory guided her towards the lake from the other direction. He excitedly told her about his horse, and about the ride all three of his brothers had promised him they would take the next day as they walked the twisting paths. He had a million questions for her, about Somerset, about her favourite books, about the times Benedict had taken her painting …

Like Alice had said both her mother and Lady Bridgerton were sitting by the lake talking in what looked like a friendly conversation when they finally emerged near the more concurred spots near the lake. Kate really hoped her stepmother would change the way she felt about the Bridgertons, she really did hate that the tables had turned for both families because of her.

She waved to both matriarchs who looked her way utterly surprised which confused her. She loved the outdoors, they knew that, everybody knew that. She followed Gregory to the spot he had mentioned. The tall willow tree stood at the very edge of the lake and the pliant branches toppled over themselves, the lowest ones caressing the clear water that reflected the rare clear day in Kent. Aubrey Hall stood in the back, grand and proud. The view was truly breathtaking. She so wanted her paints with her.

“I thought I could bring you out here to paint,” Gregory said, “Benedict says you are very good, but he would not let me carry the supplies he brought from London”.

“That is quite all right, the walk here was lovely”.

“I wish you had brought your dog!” He said taking a pebble and throwing it at the water.

“Newton would love it here,” she smiled, “but then I would have trouble keeping him out of the lake”.

“I would play with him!” Gregory answered with a brilliant smile, “I would not mind getting wet! At all!”

“Then I should introduce you when we go back to London”.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. She spun around with a soft smile on her face to find an enraged Viscount Bridgerton behind them. She had seen him looking angry more times than not, irate even, but she had never seen the want to strangle someone so plainly written on his face ever before. He was, however, not looking at her. Gregory jumped next to her and ducked behind her almost on reflex.

“Gregory,” Anthony said, “your tutor is looking for you”.

* * *

**V** iscount Anthony Bridgerton was going to drown his youngest brother, one Gregory Bridgerton, in the lake outside their ancestral home Aubrey Hall. He would. His brother would lay in the middle of the water with Daphne's red ball and Anthony would not care. Benedict would inherit the lands and the title, and he would also, probably marry Kate just to spite Anthony even more, but none of that would matter, because he would have already killed his youngest brother. The little shit even had the audacity to hide behind Kate.

He had been in his study when Gregory had entered it, sullen and moody. He had asked Anthony to correct a writing one of his tutors had assigned for him to do before finally handing it in. So Anthony, being the good older brother he considered himself to be, had taken the piece of paper and started reading it over. Likewise, because Anthony considered himself to be a good older brother, and because – disregarding the turbulent incident in the garden, and the fierce panic he had felt when he had been sure he would never see Kate Sheffield again if she left Aubrey Hall that morning – his day was turning to be a good one, he had taken pity on Gregory. Gregory who had made some kind of deal with their mother to get away from his studies, but was now confined inside the house for most of the day. Thus, Anthony had asked him to fetch a maid that would summon Kate to his study for them take a walk in the gardens, where he planned to show her the gazebo. In exchange, he had agreed to give Gregory the afternoon off. But the little shit had decided to take Kate for a walk around the lake instead.

“No, he is not,” Gregory said from behind Kate who looked utterly confused.

“Yes, he is,” Anthony grumbled, “something about your essay being full of terrible mistakes”.

Gregory peaked from behind Kate and glared at his brother. “But I have the afternoon free”.

“Not anymore”.

“But we had a deal!”

“A deal goes both ways and you did not hold your end!”.

“Kate,” he said looking up, “tell him I should be allowed to stay. Pleeease”.

“Do not drag her into it”. He shook his head. “Go before I decide your horse has thrown a shoe and we cannot go for that ride tomorrow”.

“You promised!” Gregory jumped from behind Kate then.

“Go!” Anthony said. Gregory threw a pebble into the water and headed towards his mother instead. He should remember to check his pillow for frogs that night. Anthony rubbed his temples.

“I must say,” she said with an amused smirk, “it is not every day that I am in the presence of your wrath, but not on the receiving end of it”.

“I did not plan for you to see that,” he said offering her his arm, “I sent him to fetch you, you know? Was waiting in my study for at least fifty minutes before I decided to go look for you”.

Kate walked to him and took his arm, covering her smile with her other hand. “I am surprised you resisted the need to check on my progress by the twenty-minute mark”.

“I was trying very hard to be on your good side. I thought that marching through the house hasting you for a walk would have the opposite effect”. He took them back towards the house, in full view of both of their mothers. Kate's smile widened. “How was your afternoon until my brother kidnapped you?”

“I-” she said with a soft blush travelling from her neck to her cheeks, “I had some time to think”.

“You did?” he asked. He stopped and looked at her. They were still close to the willow, the easy breeze made the grass around them dance to the rhythm of a song they were deaf to and the warm sun kissed his skin. His hands urged to take her bonnet off her head so she could feel it in hers too. Had she thought of him? Of them? Had the million little things that could go right or wrong invaded her mind like they had his?

She bit her lip and looked to the ground for a moment until she tilted her head up and their eyes met for the first time in what Anthony thought was forever. He had to remind himself that their mothers were to the other side of the lake, that Mrs Sheffield already disliked his guts, and that kissing her right in that place and moment would be disastrous for the fragile truce they had agreed on in the morning.

Still, there was only so much a man could resist.

“Anthony! Enjoying your walk?” the overconfident voice of his younger brother Colin said behind him.

“Colin”. He looked up to the sky and twisted around to see his brother walking with Eloise and Penelope. Eight Bridgertons were too many, he decided, his mother would be equally happy with just six. “Kate and I were about to walk back through the gardens,” he said instead.

“Were you?” he asked with a satisfied smirk. Penelope's eyes danced between them. “Were you going to show _Kate_ the gazebo? Maybe _Kate_ would like to see the treehouse. Or we should serve tea for _Kate_ on the back terrace. What say you, Eloise?”

“Oh, I believe _Kate_ would enjoy any of those”.

“Kate is right in front of you,” she said crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Yes _Kate_ , I am very aware,” Colin said undeterred. Anthony glared at his brother, fully conscious he would be cut off from the personal time with her that he had coveted for much of his afternoon. There was just no way Colin would leave them alone, and Anthony lacked the blackmail material necessary to force him to do it.

“Tea could be nice,” Penelope said defusing the tension. Was Colin even familiar with the amount of times Penelope Featherington saved him from the more minor to the grandest of dangers? Of course, he was not. Colin was pretty, after all, he usually managed to prance through life without using much of his brain.

“It could Pen,” Eloise said, linking their arms. “Would you like to come with us to tea, Colin? There must be food in the house that they have set apart especially for you, I am sure”. Now, Eloise, on the other hand, Anthony could grow to respect as an ally.

“Only if _Kate_ comes, she has been nowhere to be found all day and I am sure there is some gossip we have yet to know”.

“Should we go for tea?” Kate asked him, knowing they would not be left alone.

“If you wish,” Anthony answered.

“Marvellous!” Colin clapped and rushed them all along towards the house.

Anthony closed their small parade grumbling every time Colin jumped forward or backwards in some kind of animated game that was only funny to him. It was only when Penelope asked him to walk in the front with them that he stopped bothering Anthony and let him sulk in peace. Kate walked unusually slow and was falling behind the trio as they marched in their quest for sweets. He was wondering if she was doing it on purpose when she tilted her head towards him and smiled. He sprung into action and offered her his arm for the last leg of their short trek.

“This is not what I had planned,” he groaned.

“Oh, so it was not your intention for me to spent the first part of the afternoon chasing after your youngest brother?” she joked, “Or for Penelope and her entourage to crash our walk?”

“Unbelievable, is it not?” he asked offering her his arm once again. His heart skipped a beat when she linked her arm with his and placed her other hand on his biceps. “I just wanted to converse with you, I was worried after you left with your mother”.

“I know,” she said looking up at him, “we will”. They had reached the small clearing where tea had been served and the guests were trickling to. He really wanted to kiss her. Would have had it not meant he would drag them back to the pit of scandal they had so narrowly avoided that morning.

“After tea,” he vowed.

“After tea,” she answered.

* * *

**T** hey did not speak after tea. As it turned, Edwina had been back in the house on time, and Kate had thought best to use the time between tea and supper to tell her sister about what had happened that morning. Anthony, on his part, had also been wrapped into some Bridgerton scheme or the other and she settled for the annoyed look he had sent her way as she left with her family. They would always have time after dinner, Kate concluded.

She had paced about her room gathering her words before finally retelling everything that had happened since she had woken up in the morning. Edwina froze on her bed for a single moment and then pinched her arm. Kate was sure that the squeal that came after that had been heard around the guest wing.

“I knew it! I told you! Oh, Kate!” she said as she jumped onto her sister and embraced her, “I am thrilled!”

“Edwina?” Kate asked.

“Oh do refrain from looking at me in that way! I am overjoyed!”

“You are?”

“Of course!”

“You are not even a bit surprised?”

“Not even a tiny bit, why would I be?”

“Because he has been courting you for weeks now”.

“Yes, and his attention has been on you every time we were even near each other. If you were with us he was usually with you. If you were elsewhere he would always make a point to ask. I truly thought he was the most boring man until I saw how he reacted whenever you were mentioned in our conversations”. Kate restrained her impulse to defend him: Anthony was anything but boring. “It was so obvious to me he was smitten. I do not know how no one else saw it.”

Kate sat on her bed. How was Edwina so sure of it when Kate struggled to see how this entanglement was anything but forced on him? Her sister switched beds and sat beside her after a long pause.

“Of course they shall see now”.

“Now?”

“How smitten he is with you! Do keep up Kate”. Edwina kneeled behind Kate and started putting her hair down.

“He is going to court me until we know if there are any rumours, Edwina. Worst case scenario he is forced to marry a woman he does not want. Best case, he is once again free to marry whomever he chooses”. Edwina stopped her movements, took Kate by the shoulders and pushed her so they could see each other.

“If he is the intelligent man I esteem him to be he will choose right”.

Kate took her sister's hand and squeezed it once before their nightly ritual started. Mary entered the room soon after and patted them both on the cheeks. She then proceeded to pick the clothes for the night, Edwina fervently arguing in favour of the blue dress for her sister, and both Kate and Mary firmly against it.

“But blue is the Bridgerton colour!” she whined.

“Because blue is the Bridgerton colour, dear!” Mary said.

“I really feel like blue would not be a good idea, Edwina”. Kate had had it with both of them. She did not have that many dresses to choose from, it should be fairly simple. Why was it not simple? Kate thrived on simple. Simple was good. Simple was comfortable.

“Then the lavender!” Edwina conceded at last.

“Yes, the lavender will be lovely,” Mary decided, and since she was outvoted, Kate took her dress and pulled it on.

They were almost late for dinner, arriving just in time to enter the dining room and losing no time on the way to their chairs. Kate was seated between her sister and a man she had yet to meet but seemed nice enough. He kept trying to include her in the conversation he was having with some other ladies that were unknown to Kate but whose company Edwina appeared to enjoy. She spent most of the meal in animated conversation, pondering for the first time what else she could be missing during the times she was entrapped in the madness that surrounded all things Bridgerton. She dragged Penelope to the conversation on principle. For some reason, she had decided to sit far from both Eloise and Colin – a mystery to crack when the men retired for drinks in the other room – and looked like she was enjoying the quick exchange of opinions in the mixed group they had found themselves in.

Courses came and went, as dinner progressed without much fuss and Kate exchanged quiet barbs with her sister. Anthony was seated at the other side of the table, too far away to even attempt to talk to him, but she found their gazes would cross every time one happened to look to the other's side of the table. She caught him staring with his glass halfway to his lips at some point, and Kate smiled and drank from her own. To this day she is sure she saw him smile into his glass and drink.

Desserts came, a small plate of macarons was subtly placed right beside her and Edwina harshly elbowed her on the ribs. Penelope was openly smirking until her own plate of chocolate eclairs was placed before her. She, however, unlike Kate, didn't touch any.

When the men left the women, Penelope linked her arm with Kate's and pulled her to a quiet corner of the room.

“Pen?” Kate asked.

“Can you not ask?” Penelope asked, “just for tonight. I shall tell you tomorrow”.

“Of course,” Kate answered looking around for the perfect hiding spot. The door was slightly ajar, however, and Kate rose her head when she heard voices in the hallway just to see both Benedict and Anthony dragging Colin away. What on good heaven had happened in the mere hours she had been with her sister? Anthony looked back in time to catch her eye and seemed to consider walking to her, but an arm that must have been Benedict's pulled him behind his younger brother.

She stayed with Pen for most of the time, the younger girl excusing herself and leaving before the men had returned. With her friend out of sight, Kate could, in theory, devout her night to the one task she had yet to fulfil: to talk to Anthony Bridgerton.

It was not to be. Her stepmother wrapped her in a tedious conversation first. Lady Violet requested her presence then, claiming she wished to get to know her better and hadn't let her leave until Kate had told her every menial detail about herself. Kate was sure she would pull her hair out when Daphne intercepted her on her way to Anthony who had, at that moment, been bored out of his mind talking to the Duke of Hastings. By the time she decided she could cut her conversation with Daphne short, he had been pulled into sharing pleasantries with some other guests. Thus, Kate resigned to her destiny, and only griped the bare minimum when a round of stupid charades was announced until Lady Bridgerton, like the previous night, suggested it was time to turn in.

Almost an hour later, Kate sat on the dresser she shared with Edwina, bent over, holding her hair on her hands and cursing her luck that night when her sister rushed in. She had taken her head out of the updo Mary had had her in, and was brushing her curls still in her lavender gown. She should take it off, but the gown had been comfortable and the pins had not, so she had done that first. Edwina ran into the room like she had seen a ghost, but instantly relaxed when she saw her.

“You are still dressed,” she sighed, “good”.

“What do you mean?” Kate asked leaving her brush on the dresser. Edwina rummaged through their clothes until she found a soft lavender shawl.

“Come with me,” her sister said.

“Where?”

“Kate, come with me”.

“No. Tell me where you want to take me first”.

“Katharine, I did not keep giving campaign to Mama so you could mess this up. Move,” she said crossing her arms in front of her chest and giving Kate a pointed look. Kate stood up, took the shawl Edwina had pulled out for her and wrapped herself with it.

She took her sister's hand and followed her as they walked the dark hallways. Edwina would stop every once in a while before deciding which direction to take, until they reached a spot in front of a large window. The light of the moon shone brighter than their candle and lit much of the space in front of them. Kate had half a mind to stop in her tracks to demand answers from her sister.

Until she saw him.

He was pacing deep in thought. He had left the jacket he had worn to dinner somewhere, his cravat was loose and his hair looked more dishevelled than she remembered, but he was there. Kate looked at her sister when they reached the spot a silent question in her own eyes. Edwina just smiled a secret smile and reached up to whisper in her ear, “You will thank me later”. With a soft kiss on her cheek, she was gone. Kate turned to Anthony.

“Hi” she said, breathless.

“Hi” he answered offering her his hand.

She took it without hesitation. He pulled her to him until their noses touched and he breathed in as if he were searching for reasons to stop himself from kissing her. To test her theory and because a sudden course of bravery dared her to do it she pushed his nose with hers still smiling. He smiled back and his other arm held her waist.

“We should move,” he said aware that there were still soft noises around the house.

“Lead the way,” she said, and he guided her about the empty hallways and the silent rooms, both of them chuckling in every corner like a couple of school children until they reached the library. The shadows the moon created between books and tables were entirely different from what she had experienced the night before. She bit her lower lip and looked at him.

And then she let herself go like that night in the Trowbridge ball.

He had her pinned against one of the bookshelves nearest to the door before she had time to think twice and the hand that wasn't holding hers travelled to her neck. She noticed how the space between his thumb and his index finger fit perfectly around her ear as he buried his fingers in her long locks. He pushed his nose against hers once again and she licked her lips in anticipation. She raised her free hand and pulled him closer by the waist.

He was going to kiss her.

She was going to let him.

She was going to kiss him back.

Kate closed her eyes when she felt his nose touch her cheek and she knew that the caress of his lips was only millimetres away.

A very loud thump was heard on the other side of the door, a soft moan calling for “ _Simon_ ” followed close behind.

Kate opened her eyes and twisted her hear until her eyes froze on the handle, praying the door would not open, because even if Anthony and her jumped apart, even if each of them was found in a different corner of the library, being found alone at that time at night would be the end of their plans.

Anthony looked horrified probably for a set of entirely different reasons. The door thumped again and Anthony let his head fall against her collarbone with a groan. She brushed his hair back with her fingers in support while she softly shushed him.

“This is the time I kill Simon Basset,” he had the good sense of mumbling against the skin of her neck. She fought to concentrate over the electric tingles the movement stirred.

“And you get us found out,” she argued, and he groaned again, “we need to leave”.

“How?!” He whispered wildly moving the arm that she didn't have captured in her hand, “the door is blocked!”

“Anthony,” she told him, grabbing his chin between her fingers and making him look at her, “if Simon Basset and your sister open that door and find us here, your mother will know in minutes. If your mother knows, then Mary knows. If Mary knows you are dead. We do not want you dead. We need to find a way out of the library because I really doubt they will stay in the hallway much longer”.

Something she had said had made him snap back into action and he tugged her further into the library until he found a window that satisfied him. He opened the window and climbed out and then span around to help her through. She wanted to tell him that he was crazy, but she could not trust Daphne and Simon as far as she could throw them, and she really feared they would stumble inside the library before she had time to say “stop”.

That is how Katharine Sheffield climbed through a window and ran to the night with Anthony Bridgerton by her side.

* * *

**S** he was going to drive him to insanity, that he knew. During the time that they ran across the back terrace, hiding in the shadows and avoiding all sources of light Anthony knew that Kate Sheffield would be his undoing. Funny enough, his own fear of mortality had never been as far from his thoughts as it had in that glorious moment when he pulled her inside one of the greenhouses at Aubrey Hall.

She looked absolutely free, with her head thrown back and laughing out loud and her hair- God, Anthony loved her hair down. She was looking around at the more exotic flowers his mother had collected over the years, so he started explaining what little he remembered about them as they walked about. He remembered that his father had had a stone bench built for his mother near the back, so he guided them there in their stroll.

The gardener had been in recently, he noticed, and planted some small bushes he did not recognize but Kate did. “A raspberry bush!” she said excitedly, “I did know you grew them yourselves”.

They hadn't, but he was not about to admit that so he just smiled instead. They sat next to each other on the bench. Their moment in the library gone as moments have the bad habit of doing, so their only other chance was to talk. Anthony was a mess when he had to talk yo Kate, however, so he started their conversation using the first convenient roundabout he found.

“I was thinking I should get your mother some pearls”.

“Mary?” she asked, “whatever for?”

“She puzzles me, I really feel lost as to how I am supposed to earn her forgiveness”.

“Buying her jewellery won't do,” she assured him.

“But!” He said fully aware that he sounded like Gregory when he was sent back to his tutors, “I do not know what to do! What do you want me to do? Whatever it is, I shall do it!” He meant it, whatever Kate wanted from him she would get.

“It does not work that way!” she answered, “you cannot just ask for something and expect to be forgiven forever! I will not tell you what to do”.

“Then how will I know?”

“Because you should not want to do things to placate me! You should try to be a good person because you are a good person”.

“I am a good person!” he defended himself.

“I believe that!” she told him, “I do. You have also insulted me and my family enough times that if I were a man I would be morally duty-bound to call you out on it”.

“Yes, I am aware of how horrible I have been”. He looked down at their hands. “I just- I usually know how to at least start fixing it but now … I really do want to fix what I said Kate, take it all back. I truly want to restore what I broke”.

“I believe you,” she said caressing his cheek and giving him another bit of hope to hold on to. “Like with Pen yesterday night. Did you take her to dinner because you wanted to impress me-”

“No! I did that because Cressida Cowper is a nightmare and Penelope is one of the sweetest girls I know.”

“See,” she told him, “that kind of behaviour is what shows how good you have the potential to be. Buying me expensive things does not.”

“I understand,” he said pulling their hands to his lap and playing with her fingers. She sighed next to him and softly laid her head on his shoulder. Suddenly, Anthony wished Simon, Daphne, their families and the entire _ton_ would march into the greenhouse so he would be forced to marry her the next day.

He tilted his head up to the rarely clear sky. “Do you like astronomy?” he asked to fill the silence ad then proceeded to tell her about the constellations he could spot. They spent some time that way, just two happy idiots looking at the sky as the night grew colder and they subconsciously sat closer together. He decided to call it a night after a little argument about whether Leo looked more like a lion or a swan escalated. He had promised Edwina he would have Kate back in the room not too late, and even though he was sure it was already later than Edwina had considered it would be when she had agreed to help him, he did not want to push his luck.

With a heavy heart, he pushed Kate up from his chest and offered her his hand one last time. She took it with a brilliant smile and she stepped close to him which made his heart dance in his chest. He used another one of the entrances to the side and they padded through the house in silence. He knew he should let her go on her own and not go anywhere near the guest wing. He truly did. Then again, he was going to allow himself one last transgression for the night, so he escorted her to the stairs.

Kate climbed the first few steps but did not let his hand go until their arms could not stretch any more. Anthony had resigned himself to watch her climb the stairs and walk away from him when she suddenly stopped and climb them down again. She gave him a little naughty smile and confidently tilted her head to kiss his cheek.

“Good night, Anthony”.

“Good night, Kate”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give you: tooth-rotting cuteness, and I'm not even a bit sorry.  
>  So, I kept the bee. I kept the library. I made the gazebo scene disappear (twice), but I think that this is a happy medium between keeping the original premise for the fic and having it make sense for the storyline. But as always let me know what you think!  
>  Also what do we think as Mondays for update days for this fic?  
>  I'll try to have one of the one-shots I promised up by Thursday (because it's my birthday on Friday and I don't think I'll have time to post anything on the weekend. Also I like a Monday and Thursday upload schedule lol).
> 
> I also made two potential covers for this fic to have on my Tumblr and to choose I MADE A POLL (I'm so stupidly happy about it you don't understand):
> 
> <https://linkto.run/p/00LMPNHR>


	8. The Whistledown Dilema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polin aren't speaking,  
> Benedict really wants a ring for Kate,  
> Hyacinth brings chaos.
> 
> (A haiku summary nobody asked for)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for being so late to update :(

**Chapter 8: The Whistledown Dilema**

* * *

**  
I** n all the things Kate thought she would wake up to the next day, Penelope Featherington shaking her awake only centimetres away from her face was not it.

“What is it? What happened?” Kate asked sitting up.

“Come with me to the village,” Penelope answered.

“Pen …” Kate said flopping down against her pillow once again. It had taken aeons for her to fall back to sleep after her adventure the previous night. She had had to hide her dirty shoes and fold her gown in a way that hid the hem. The buzzing energy wouldn't leave her as much as she turned on her own bed, however, and Kate had been transfixed by the bright moon that knew all her secrets until she had finally fallen asleep. She had heard Edwina make some kind of excuse for her that morning and they had left her alone until Penelope, apparently, had decided that enough was enough.

“You have never been and I want you to come with me,” Penelope insisted.

“What is with you today?” She said taking the arm she had crossed in front of her eyes away from her face.

“Just ...”

“Pen ...”

“Fine! I am cross with Eloise!”

“I know that...”

“Yes! She leaves me alone when I am cross with her, because it happens so far and between that she panics a little, so she really leaves me be. And she is not the problem she really is not, she has been on the other side of the parlour for the entire morning talking to Edwina. But! I am cross with her! With them!”

“Pen!”

“Right, the rambling. The thing is that she roped Colin into it, and as much as Eloise just leaves me to my devices, ñets me have my peace until I am ready to talk to her again, Colin does not. Colin is insistent. Colin is always everywhere and right now I do not want to see him and, ugh! What I mean to say is: I really do not want to see Colin or Eloise today and some people are leaving for the Village in about half an hour and I want you to come with me, because that is the only way my Mama will let me go”.

“What did they do to you?” Kate asked confused.

“He keeps pushing about Eloise's cursed book and the clues and I of course did not wish to tell him, so he got annoyed about it. He kept asking and asking and when I told him it was best he did not know he had the audacity to-!”

“All right Pen, breathe!” Kate said taking Penelope's wild hands on hers.

“Please, Kate, please. Just come to the village with me. I want to be far away from here when they come home. I will buy lunch for us, and all the sweets you could ever want! Forever!”

“Fine! I shall go with you.” Penelope sighed, “just let me tell Mary”.

Barely half an hour later, Kate strode into the parlour where Mary was spending her morning with Penelope hot in her heels. She was sitting with both Mrs Featherington and Lady Bridgerton in the corner with most light. Kate saw Edwina with Eloise and another man on the other side of the room and gave her sister a little wave.

“Good morning,” she greeted the three of them and bent to kiss Mary on the cheek.

“Good morning, dear,” Lady Bridgeton said, “I hope you feel well-rested now, Edwina told us you were restless last night”. Kate sent her sister a pointed look she wouldn't see.

“I just needed a bit more time to fall asleep than I usually do, she exaggerates,” she smiled, “ I am actually here to ask for permission to go to the village with Penelope?” Lady Violet checked the big clock at that.

“There is a group that is waiting for us just outside so we shall not go alone,” Penelope chirped behind her, “we will all go in a carriage, and be back in time for tea”.

“But you already missed breakfast,” Lady Bridgerton exclaimed, “should it not be better if you left after luncheon?”

“I believe Penelope wishes to go to the post office and as it only opens in the morning we would have to go tomorrow again,” Kate explained, “I am sure we can have a small lunch somewhere and be back for tea with the rest. Would that be all right?”

“Of course, darling,” Mary said with a soft smile, “go spend the day with your friend”.

“We will sorely miss you both at the family luncheon today!” Lady Bridgerton called after them. Kate and Penelope shared a look as they both left for the front door.

Like Pen promised a group of people were waiting for them on a small carriage. Of the group of about ten, Kate only knew Mr Renton and another girl she was sure was named Abigail, but no one else. Penelope had rolled her eyes and told Kate that she truly had to talk to more people when she had inquired about their company. To be perfectly honest, she should, she just hadn't had the time. She had spent half of the season surrounded by Edwina's suitors, another quarter entangled in Bridgerton shenanigans, and the last quarter running away from the former two.

The group broke into two smaller ones when they reached the small village, some wandering off towards the shops and others promenading about. Kate and Pen headed towards the post office with Mr Renton and two sisters that Kate had learnt were named Juliana and Justina Arcot.

It was different Kate noted, to be in society in that way. Despite popular belief, Kate liked people, good people that is, but she had painted herself into a corner at the beginning of the season it seemed, and never truly let herself enjoy them. The stay at Aubrey Hall was proving to be more fruitful than she had ever imagined, and as hard as it was for her to admit, she was a little proud of herself for choosing to face her anguish instead of staying back in London.

They barely made it in time for tea, all of them rushing off the carriage as soon as it stopped in front of Aubrey Hall. Kate had been next in line to jump down when a gloved hand was offered to her, she looked to its owner confused for a moment, but smiled when she found Anthony on the other side.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she answered.

She slipped her hand in his and firmly held it as she leapt with the little grace she possessed. He pulled her beside him and moved her out of the way of the res to the people with his other hand.

“Miss Featherington,” he said, offering his hand to Penelope like he had her. Kate was sure they looked quite the picture: him with one hand stretched to one woman as the back of the other imperceptively swayed against Kate's.

“Thank you,” Penelope said, before walking inside with the group.

Kate took his arm in what was already becoming a habit and he took her inside the house after Kate's new acquaintances with a soft smile. If asked, Kate would swear they were all giggling as they walked before them. Anthony stopped them in front of the stairs like the previous night, and Kate suddenly needed to laugh. He instead took the hand he had been holding and softly brought it to his lips.

“Did you enjoy the village?” he asked.

“I did,” she smiled.

“I am glad”.

“You do not look it,” she countered.

“I just would have liked to show to you,”

“Were you crestfallen by my abrupt departure, my Lord?” she teased, resisting the need to erase his frown with her finger.

He smiled. “Utterly devastated, Miss Sheffield, I feared for my health had you needed a moment longer to return.”.

“Oh, so that is why you were so gallantly waiting for me at the door,” she tried batting her eyelashes with little success.

“I thought you would be here for luncheon,” he said instead.

“Penelope wanted to go to the post office, we stayed for lunch and walked about for a bit. We would have been back sooner but everyone was at the post office today, it seems”.

“How so?”

“Why, Anthony do you not know? Whistledown comes out tomorrow!” she giggled once again, “the _ton_ is the _ton_ no matter where it is residing”.

“Of course, how could I forget,” he said leaning against the railing and firmly putting his shoe against hers.

“Did anything of interest happen while I was away?” she asked.

“Let us see. Gregory whined about our ride being too short, Colin whined about our ride being too long, Eloise complained about the lack of Penelope in the house, Colin complained about the lack of Penelope in the house …”

“Anthony complained about the lack of Kate in the house ...” Benedict said behind his brother. Anthony glared at him and Kate swallowed her laughter. “So did Gregory, by the way”.

“You should stop encouraging that,” Anthony told his brother, “he is a child of twelve”.

“He is thirteen,” Kate admonished him. Of course, she knew that Anthony was aware of his youngest brother's age, but used the fact that nothing angered Gregory more than people getting it wrong. “Stop bullying Gregory”.

“Yes Anthony, stop bullying Gregory,” Benedict parroted.

“Unbelievable-”

“Dearest Katharine,” Benedict continued showing a dramatic side he rarely let to the surface, “please join me in the back terrace where I have placed some blank canvases for us. I have had to endure the company of my artistically incompetent family for far too long today”.

“I was conversing with Kate, brother”.

“Yes, well, she was my friend first”.

“Yes, well, I-”

“At least let me go change my shoes,” she cut them.

“Fine!” Benedict said, “I will gather the oils in the meantime. Ten minutes Katharine! If I come back in ten minutes and you are still here I shall drag your dirty shoes all over Aubrey Hall and the servants will dislike you forever!”

“They would never dislike you,” Anthony whispered, “Benedict is the biggest mess there is and they like him just fine”.

Kate smiled at that and shook her head. “Did you have fun with your brothers?” She asked.

“We had an eventful ride”.

“That bodes trouble”.

“Penelope is angry with Colin because he was stupid enough to say something, which I guess you know because you have been shielding Miss Featherington from my brother for two days. Colin does not fare well if anyone is cross with him, lest of all Penelope Featherington. If you add that to his already evident propensity for the dramatics … Let us just say he has been roaming the family wing like a tormented soul”.

“It sounds like he should really apologise for whatever he said”.

“You know.” He accused her.

“I do not. I only know that if Colin were older and Colin were a woman he would be a Mama, which does not fit well with young girls trying to keep certain things to themselves”.

“Is this about that stupid game?”

“Katharine! I see you in the same shoes!” Benedict bellowed.

“I was on my way up!” she said, rushing upstairs, and leaving Anthony behind.

Edwina was in their room when she arrived, laying on her bed with a dreamy smile on her face and her blond hair sprawled around her like a crown. She barely looked up for a second when Kate walked into the room and went back to her musings. She took a strand of blond hair between her fingers and played with it for a moment before remembering that she hadn't seen her older sister the entire day. She jumped up on her bed and sat.

“You have not told me about last night!” she squealed.

Kate shushed her and looked around waiting for Mary to burst into the room. “Will you be quiet?”

“You must tell me!” she squealed a little lower.

“There is nothing to tell”.

“I did not risk my life for you to keep secrets”.

“All that time you are spending with Eloise is leaving its mark”.

“Are you saying Mama would not kill me if she found out I was in cahoots with Anthony Bridgerton so you could rendevous with him in the middle of the night?” she asked crossing her arms in front of her chest, “Because I believe she would”.

“Fine! She would, but I am painting with Benedict in the back terrace and I am already late”.

“Just tell me about the kiss!” Kate tensed.

“The kiss?”

“Surely he kissed you?”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes?”

“No, he did not”.

“WHYEVER?”

There was a knock on the door. It couldn't be Mary, Mary would have barged in without knocking. Kate walked to the door and she pulled the door half-open. Alice, the maid that seemed to tend to them most was waiting on the other side.

“This came for you, Miss,” she said giving her a neatly covered package, “Well, it was addressed to Lady Bridgerton, but I recognised the seal as the one on your brush, so it surely must be for you”.

“Thank you, Alice,” Kate said and the short maid left. Kate's fingers brushed over the engraved seal, it was, indeed, theirs.

“Why Kate?”

“What?”

“Why did he not kiss you?”

“Because he is a gentleman”.

“He asked your sister to take you to him in the middle of the night the same day he had been found pouncing on you in his gardens. I also saw how you greeted each other, so spare me the excuses! Why did he not kiss you?”

Kate ripped the covering with a frustrated huff, “because we were interrupted!”

“Oh my!”

“Edwina,” Kate said rolling her eyes. She then looked down to the book in her hands. It was not a book however, it was a journal. THE journal. Kate swallowed hard. She couldn't leave the book just hanging about, but if she made a fuss about it and hid it then Edwina would surely read it once she was gone. Why would someone send her that? Had it been one of her maids who had seen her walking about with it for an entire week and then realised she had left it home?

“Kate? Why did you ask me to specify?”

“Edwina I am late to meet Benedict,” she said putting her other shoes on.

“Katharine, why did you ask me to specify? Has it happened other times? KATE!”

She had to talk to Penelope or find somewhere where she could burn the book, alone. She could throw it at the lake! Yes! Unless someone saw her and then hoped to retrieve it for her before it was completely ruined.

“Kate!” she heard to her left as she made her way outside. Eloise ran to her, and immediately checked if her mother was there to chastise her for doing so, “I need to speak with you about the-” her eyes landed on the book in her hands, “you brought it here?”

“No! It was sent to me! This is a mess Eloise, I am going to dispose of it!”

“You cannot! We have another full round to play this way!” Eloise said taking the book from Kate's hands and almost opening it.

“No!” Kate said retrieving it back, “it is bad enough that you found it, Eloise, you truly do not want to know how thin the edge of the knife you are dancing on is. Leave it be”. She left Eloise behind.

She needed to destroy the blasted thing. Soon.

* * *

**A** nthony was sitting in a stupid chair he had taken outside with him, behind stupid Benedict who wouldn't stop grinning like a madman. The other blank canvas beside his was mocking him every second she was late, and he was growing restless.

He had been woken up when the sun had just come up by an overexcited Gregory who had been already dressed for the ride they had promised him. None of his other two brothers had been too happy about the early hour, but in Anthony's mind the sooner they left, the sooner they would be back, even for luncheon. They had a quick breakfast and soon after they had been trotting along one of the more gentle paths. Gregory had gotten bored of trotting not even a mile in and had teased Benedict into a race, which had left Anthony behind with a very grumpy (and hungover) Colin. The day his younger brother realised that Miss Featherington was his only good quality and finally courted her Anthony was sure he would burst into tears.

It had been, all in all, a nice morning. Anthony loved his brothers but knew that the three eldest had the bad habit of unknowingly excluding the youngest from most of their activities. It was done without malice, but done nonetheless.

Anthony had known, of course, that Gregory fancied himself in love with Kate. He also knew that Gregory kept pointedly ignoring every and all comments about said lady and his eldest brother. He should truly make time to talk with him about the matter before Anthony inevitably broke his heart at the end of the week.

Anthony had only been mildly disappointed when they had arrived back and only his siblings and his mother had been in attendance for the family luncheon. It was a complete coincidence that he happened to be looking out of the window in his study when they had arrived in that raggedy monstrosity that Renton called a carriage.

Just like it was a simple coincidence that he had dragged a chair to the back terrace so he could already be sitting with Benedict when she arrived. That last one was harder to believe, he would admit, but he hadn't seen her the entire day and he just wanted to spend some time with her. They were supposed to be courting after all.

Anthony looked back down at the novel he had borrowed from Francesca and tried to concentrate on the words on the page in front of him: _It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife_.

“I would have never thought you to be a fan of the Austen girl, Anthony” Benedict said unable to hide his snark.

“I admire her resilience,” Anthony shrugged, “Might as well read what she has to say”.

“You know who finds her fascinating?” Anthony grumbled at Benedict's words, “our dearest Kate, of course. Do you happen to know who gifted her a first edition of that novel you are reading?” Anthony really wanted to throw the stupid book at his stupid brother but decided against it last minute.

It was at that moment that Kate hurried out of the house and almost walked towards the lake before she noticed them. She looked torn for a moment, her head whipping back and forth between them and the water, until she appeared to take a deep breath and headed towards them. Anthony sat a little straighter and gave her a little smile while wondering what could have her in such a mood.

“As you see,” Benedict said, “we have company”.

“The sun is nice outside,” Anthony complained.

“Kate, tell the bumblebee to be quiet,”

“Bumblebee!” To all the things to compare him to.

“Well I was not going to compare you to an actual bee! There is nothing sweet about all the vile you produce”.

“Benedict, stop teasing your brother with bees,” Kate said with a tense little smile. He took her hand with his and pressed once. She tilted her head towards him and did the same. Anthony's smile widened when she made no move to break their contact.

“You are no fun now, Kate,”

“Give me a brush and I shall show you how much fun I can be,” she dared him and Benedict took one of his brushes and gave it to Kate. She squeezed his hand one more time before she let it go and immersed herself in the painting before her. Anthony sprawled on his seat until one of his feet was touching Kate's leg.

Anthony let himself drown in the compelling words of the novel, enjoying the amiable silence that surrounded the three of them. As he passed the pages while the soft evening wind picked up and bent the blades of grass around them, Anthony wished the rest of the guests would leave Kent and let him enjoy his peace and quiet with his family. Miss Featherington had joined their small group at some point during the afternoon and was standing next to Kate talking about nothing in particular. A manservant had brought her a chair soon after she had appeared on the terrace, but she had preferred to jump from Benedict's painting to Kate's and had yet to use it. He was sure it had not been that much time after, that one of the newer maids had brought a tray of tea with sweets.

“Thank you, Alice, you spoil us,” Kate had said, and the genuine smile she had received in return had filled Anthony with pride.

It was, he thought, the first time in a long time that he had obliged his laziest impulses and done categorically nothing, and even if he would have preferred to hijack Kate's afternoon and spend it tucked away somewhere, he had really loved every little glance and infinitesimal touch they had shared.

It was something he could grow used to, he realised, a dynamic so natural he would like the leaf that flows with the tide of the calm river. Anthony's only problem was the awareness of the waterfall not too far ahead. He decided to spare his worrying mind the suffering for a bit and fixed his eyes on Kate laughing at something Benedict had said when Hyacinth had arrived from apparently nowhere.

* * *

**K** ate had made a point to be early for supper that evening, she had, after all, missed both breakfast and lunch and been elsewhere for tea. She thought it would only be polite to spend some time with Lady Violet before she would once again be pulled away by Penelope. As it happened, the seats taken on Aubrey Hall that first night had been indirectly assigned for the rest of the meals. That fact seemed to be a source of irritation for more than one Bridgerton that, who retaliated by talking absorbing as much time from their favourite guests as it would be considered decent.

Francesca was usually the one freest to do whatever he wanted, closely followed by Eloise and Benedict. Anthony, on the other hand, was constantly surrounded by changing groups of people and grew more and more irritated by the second. He kept playing with his pocket-watch and opening and closing his hands while his eyes would regularly look for her in the room. To be honest, Kate didn't know if finding her made matters better or worse.

Supper was a lively affair, like every other supper in Aubrey Hall had been. It was followed by drinks for the men and sweet conversation for the ladies, a routine Kate was becoming accustomed to. She had been sitting between Edwina and Eloise when the men returned to them.

“Already?” Eloise had asked and looked at one of the clocks close by. She had thankfully calmed down after their previous conversation and had been keeping both Sheffield sisters for much of the night.

“Would the two of you like some lemonade?” Kate asked, standing up before the swarm of gentlemen surrounded them. Benedict found her as soon as she reached the refreshment table, and pulled her aside to the corner with a teasing smile. “Ben?” she asked.

“Shush,” he answered, “I want to see how long he lasts before he starts frantically looking for you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“My dear brother, of course!”

“Must you?”

“You used to be fun, Katharine,” he said narrowing his eyes.

“I am fun! I just see the point of torturing Anthony with my lack of presence. I actually do not think he does want to see me right now, he gets more aggravated every time we cross gazes”.

“Ha!” he barked, and she pushed his face away with her left hand, which he captured and studied for a moment, “no ring still,” he said raising his eyebrows like a villain in a pantomime.

“I know not what you speak of, Mr Bridgerton,” she said pursing her lips and resisting the urge to hit him.

“You know, I promised Anthony I would give you a Bridgerton ring at the end of the week if he did not. You need only wait a few more days, dearest Kate and I shall be all yours. Unless, of course, Gregory beats me to it,” he teased her. If that was how having Benedict as a brother was going to be Kate would make sure to run away. To Ireland, maybe.

“Unless I run away forever,” she teased back.

“You would never wound me so deeply,” his gaze became outright devilish, “I had plans to propose in the greenhouse! Just imagine, us two, surrounded by flowers … The perfect painting really. There is this bench my father had made for my mother, did you know?” Kate did know. Kate tried to breathe and swallow her drink at the same time. Kate almost chocked. “Then again, the atmosphere is that much more magnificent during the night. Close your mouth, Kate, dearest, you look like a fish”.

“He told you?” Kate whispered.

“Worse, I saw”.

“You saw?”

“Oh Kate,” he said batting his eyelashes, “the two of you looked so sweet”. Kate buried her elbow into his ribs.

“What were you doing out there?”

“Looking for inspiration.”

“In a greenhouse?”

Benedict ridiculously moved his eyebrows once again.

“Finally!” Anthony said to Kate's right. Some of her hair fell on her face when she whipped her head to look at him, and he placed it back behind her ear with his fingers.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he answered.

“Excuse me,” Benedict said, “I have to go,” he took a swing from his drink, “vomit”. Kate swatted his arm.

“Was he annoying you?”

“Apparently I am not fun, anymore!” she said a bit miffed.

“Now that is just not true, I think you are fun”.

“Oh, no!” she teased him, “it must be truly bad! I must find Colin and ask about how I can restore all that made me fun but three days ago”.

“I try to be nice to you, and this is what I get?”

“You like me just like this, my Lord”.

“I do, Miss Sheffield”. He looked around the room, she could see Daphne playing cards with Simon and Eloise and thought she would maybe like to join. She was about to suggest it when he said, “I just wished they would all leave”.

“We will only impose on your hospitality for a couple more days, I promise”.

“Not you!” he said as if he found the idea utterly absurd, and took her hand in his. “The amount of time I lose every day in inane conversation is really becoming too much. Simon is not helping mind you, he throws me into the jaws of a different group of blabbering idiots every time he is away from Daphne for more than five minutes. Do you know how I know that? I counted!”

“Lucky for you Whistledown's column will arrive tomorrow and they will all be too immersed in it to bother you for a few hours”.

“Will we have peace? Barely anyone has been left back in London, all the excitement is here and they know all that has happened”.

“Not all of it,” she said finishing her drink. He looked at her concerned.

“We could announce it before they have anything to gossip about tomorrow, you know?”

“Announce it?” surely they were not having that conversation in a barely private corner of his parlour.

“Yes, get it over with”. He gave her a small smile.

“Anthony,” she told him, “you are not in love with me, you do not want to marry me”. His face changed entirely.

“And you do?” he huffed, “we would be protecting our reputations, we have become friends these past days and I do believe we would suit in the other areas pertaining to a marriage. I had already planned to marry this year, it would be the most sensible course of action”.

Anthony always did find the wrong thing to say, Kate reminded herself.

Gone was the man that had almost begged her to stay the day before, the man that had faced her mother so they could stay. The man who had shown her the stars the previous night and the one who had whispered sweet nothings close to her skin. This Anthony, the one before her, hid behind an armour made solely on logic and pragmatism, and she -being an overly logical and pragmatic person- hated it.

“You are upset,” he said demanding her attention with a soft squeeze of their joined hands. “I have upset you”.

“No,” she said drawing a breath in, “I just do not think this is the place to discuss this”.

“We shall find a place, then, let us go”.

“Anthony, I cannot leave the parlour with you alone, everyone will assume”.

“We will ask our mothers to come, then”.

“Right, like that would be better”.

“Daphne! I will ask Daphne”.

“No, I think it will be best if we sleep on it, see what tomorrow brings”. She took her hand away from his.

“Kate?” He asked.

“I think I should like to play some cards,” she finished making her way to the table.

She could feel his eyes on her for most of the night after that. She stayed put, however, she sat between her friends, old and new. Kate knew he was growing restless, she had heard the way he had almost snapped at Colin for some quip he had made, and she was sure she had seen him leave at least two conversations unfinished. She gave up her spot at the table after a particularly bad round.

“Unlucky at cards, lucky in love, Miss Sheffield!” someone called behind her, and she made a beeline to her mother. Lady Violet had had enough for the night, it appeared, so all the guests adjourned until the following day. Kate took Penelope's arm in hers and they made their way towards the stairs, only for them to have their way blocked by Colin and Anthony. Penelope swerved left and picked up her pace, pulling Kate along, but Anthony, who had been in front of Pen, caught Kate's elbow with ease and kept her in place in the quickly emptying hallway.

“Kate,” he started pushing Colin away a few steps forward.

“Anthony, I feel quite tired”.

“Meet me in a while, the same spot as yesterday night”.

“No,” she told him.

“Please,” he almost begged.

“We were seen, you know? Benedict saw us”.

“Benedict hardly matters”.

“It could have been someone else. We are already in a mess because what somebody might have seen, we should not be risking it”.

“Kate,” he murmured looking into the deep shadows in her eyes. If he kept saying her name like some kind of prayer all coherent thought would surely leave her, and she could not afford that. “I do not want you to go to bed angry with me”.

“Anthony,” she sighed, “I am not angry”.

“You are upset”.

“I need to sleep. It has been a long day,” she took her hand to his cheek and allowed her fingers to draw little patterns on it. “Good night,” she said walking towards Penelope who was drowning in her own turmoil a few paces ahead. She looked back at Colin who looked more troubled than she had ever seen him. She pushed her friend upstairs.

* * *

  
**K** ate tossed and turned in her bed until her sheets no longer looked like sheets and had been kicked to the foot of the bed in a big ball of fabric. She took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling hoping sleep would come. She bent her knees and shook them the way she would always do when she was feeling restless. She hated feeling that way. She knew she wouldn't fall asleep so long as she was feeling that way. Alas, confronting her feelings ant thoughts scared her more than a sleepless night. The house creaked, Edwina snored beside her and Kate wished Newton had been allowed to go so she could hug him to her.

“Kaaaaaaate,” came a soft whisper from the hallway. Either that or she was losing her mind. Kate lay still.

“Kaaaate,” the hallucination said, but Kate was sure she could hear the floorboards cracking in the hallway, “for heaven's sake! Kaaaaaaate”.

Edwina woke startled. “Kate there is a ghost outside”.

“He is not a ghost yet,” she answered fully intended on killing him. She stood up from the bed.

“You are surely not going to open the door!”

“Edwina it is not a ghost!”

“Kate!” said the whisper on the other side of the door, “open up!”

“No!” she whispered back, “Anthony go to sleep”. Edwina had taken the matches on the nightstand and lit a candle for them.

“I am in the guest wing in the middle of the night, in front of your door. If anyone finds me here it will be the scandal of the season. Let me in”.

Kate sent a bewildered look at Edwina. “Surely it will be even worse if you were found inside the room!”

“Come out, then!” Kate took the candle from her sister as Edwina pressed her ear against the wall to their mother's room.

“No,” she answered.

“Kate, she had stopped snoring,” Edwina warned.

“Oh, for God's sake!” Kate swang the door open, “What!”

Anthony looked taken aback for a moment. Edwina took one of Kate's arms and pulled it through the sleeve of a robe. Kate gave up the candle she had been holding and pulled the robe over her other hand and shoulders before strapping it around her and pulling her hair out. Her sister returned to her spot by the wall, and they waited until Edwina nodded.

“Come with me,” he said.

“No”.

“We need to talk”.

“We can talk tomorrow”.

“We can talk now”.

“Anthony”.

“Kate”.

“Why are you being so insistent?”

“Because you are upset and we will not have the chance to talk alone come morning. You know it. We will have to talk with chaperones present and everyone will assume, just like you said they would today”.

“I think it best if we wait for Whistledown to be delivered”.

“And I do not want the choices we make to be reigned by whatever that woman has to say”. Kate looked at Edwina and threw her head back.

“Fine,” she said, walking over to her bed to get her slippers on and heading to the hallway. She walked in front of him towards the service stairs because they were the ones closest to their room, and climbed them down. The hour was late, and the house was uncharacteristically quiet, an evident contrast with the ruckus that usually governed it. Anthony offered her his hand, but she didn't immediately take it in hers, strutting down the hallway in front of them until she realised that he had not followed her and he was the only one with a light.

The look he gave her would have rivalled Newton's sweetest eyes. She sighed and, in spite of herself, offered him her hand. He jogged the distance that she had walked and laced their fingers together. He took her through the familiar halls, pass the library to a room she had never been in but quickly recognised as his study.

There was something completely unappealing about treating their prospective marriage like any other business negotiation that had taken place in that room. However, as Anthony twisted around to lock the door, leaving the key inside it, she had to admit it was the room where it made most sense to have that conversation.

“We had bad luck in the library,” he said, “I thought it best not to tempt the fates again”.

Kate lifted one of her eyebrows. Tempting the fates was one thing, what they had been doing the past three nights was sure to tempt the princes that ruled over the seven deadly sins at some point. “If it all goes south, I could always hide behind the desk,” she told him trying to break the tension. He smiled and took her to one of the sofas.

They sat in silence for a little while. “I am afraid I can never find the right words when I am with you”.

“Anthony,” Kate sighed.

“I upset you, I am sorry. I was not thinking when I started so blatantly discussing us before. I just do not understand why you would prefer to wait over announcing the news ourselves”.

“Because there are no news to announce!” she said having lost her patience, “We agreed to appear to be courting while we listened for rumours-”

“We have! Have you not enjoyed the time we have spent together?” Brilliant, he looked hurt.

“Of course I have, you know I have!”

“So? We have also become friends, have we not? That is more than most men and women have at the beginning of a union”.

“Anthony, no one is going to believe you wanted to marry me, everyone is going to think you were trapped. Which you were, in a way, by a stupid bee”.

“I was not more trapped than you are!”

“That is not how it appears and you know it,” she told him looking at him straight in the eye. “I have no dowry. You should no I have no dowry,” she placed a finger on his lips to stop him from protesting, “you have been very publicly chasing after my sister for most of the season, and anyone with half a neuron knows that I did not approve. You know what they will say: the plain sister was so jealous of her sister that she seduced the Viscount, and now look at him”.

“They will not say that! Mother will spin it! Just wait until she gets beside herself because of the wedding. Daphne will tell a tale so romantic that it will no longer matter! You need to trust me, Kate, I will keep you safe”.

“I did not think this would happen,” she asked standing and starting to pace around.

“Kate, you would have to marry eventually, am I such a bad prospect?”

“To be honest, I had rather assumed I would not”.

“You planned to live your life as a spinster?”

“It seemed a definite possibility, yes,” she nodded like it was obvious. “And if it is all for nought?” She continued, “if Whistledown by some miracle reports nothing and we have already announced our nuptials?”

“I still cannot see the problem”.

“Anthony ...”

“What is this really about?” he said suddenly upset.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Why the need to wait? Why the need to ensure if that horrible gossip says anything?” He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I do not understand”.

“Come on Kate!” He said walking the few paces that kept them apart. “Were you expecting another offer?” Then, his eyes widened in horror, “were you already propositioned?”

Kate's jaw fell to the floor. “Are you out of your mind?! Do you think so little of me?”

“Of course not!”

“Well, excuse me while I doubt your word”. They had both long broken the unspoken agreement to keep their voices down.

“It was a logical deduction!”

“I just told you I was planning to spend my life as a spinster!”

“Why on God's good earth would I not think that when you are so adamant about not having what is clearly an advantageous match!”

“BECAUSE YOU DO NOT WANT ME!”

There was silence for a second.

“Do you know how demoralising that can be? To be paraded around party after party knowing full well that none of the people present will like me for me. Do you know what it is to be fully aware that I will never be enough in the eyes of those people whose only want in this life is to talk, and comment and judge! And the moment I make one meaningful connection I am thrown into this games where I have to pretend that every word you say or every touch we share is not tainted by the smallest bit of self-doubt. It is exhausting, Anthony. So excuse me if I would like to spare myself a lifetime of it”. She had travelled to his desk during her speech and sat on it when her legs felt like they couldn't hold her anymore.

Anthony walked to her and held her face in his hands. “I wish you could see yourself like I see you”. Kate huffed and tried to push his hands away. “I mean it! You should hear how Colin talks about you, or how Mother praises every little gesture you have with anyone. You should know both Eloise and Gregory barged into my study back in London when you were not speaking to me a couple of weeks ago. Lord, Gregory had yet to meet you and he was firmly on your side. And Benedict! Benedict will not shut up about you. He will always mention you when we are out, he almost punched me more than once on your behalf I am sure. It used to drive me so utterly mad how close the two of you were”. He brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Kate, my family is the most important thing in my life, and you are the first woman that has made all of them unapologetically agree that I am the biggest idiot in the planet for ever wronging you. I do not think I could bear it if I made you feel like you were not enough. Because this unattainable bar you have set for yourself in this shrewd mind of yours, you have already surpassed it in the eyes of all of us who have taken the time to know you, even the littlest bit”.

Her heart banged inside her chest when his lips made the way to her forehead and stayed there for a few seconds.

“I am going to kiss you now,” he said. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he brought his lips to hers but stopped just before pressing against her. “Kate-”

She placed her hands around his neck and pulled him down, melting against his body and brushing the hair in his nape with her fingers. Her other hand snaked under his arm and pulled him by the waist. He wanted close, the closer the better, it was the only thought in her mind.

He let her face go and he propped her on top of the desk with a swift move. Their lips broke for a moment in search of air and one's eyes caught the other's. Kate pulled him down once again, and she felt how one of his hands found its place on the curve of her knee and grabbed the soft skin of her leg as it travelled upward. Kate bit on Anthony's lower lip and threw her head back. He used the momentary distraction to turn his attentions to her neck and she gasped when he slowly kissed her pulse point.

“Kate,” he murmured pulling her even closer, “of any possible hiccups we might have in our marriage, me not wanting you will never be one of them”.

She fisted the hand that was on his hair and pulled him away from her neck and back to her lips.

“Shut up,” she groaned. He smiled against her lips-

“I am going to marry you as soon as we get to London”. Kate moaned at the sensations his hands were eliciting on her skin and tried to close the gap between them. Anthony retreated, with a little grin. “Say yes”.

“To what?”

“Be my wife”.

Kate had never thought this is how it would be, she never imagined one could be proposed to in such a position. She knew this was not what any of her parents had envisioned for her. And yet. Kate bit her lip and searched his eyes for any sign of deceit, but found none.

“Yes,” she said, and he closed the minimal distance between them and moulded his body against hers.

The intense pounding on the window made them jump away from each other. Kate only wished a sinkhole would open in the middle of the study and swallow her. Anything not to look at Benedict as he shook his head at them with his arms ajar and a cigarette in his lips.

“I will see you tomorrow,” she told Anthony still winded.

“Tomorrow,” he promised, “I will speak to your mother after breakfast”. She padded to the door and turned the key.

“You will speak to my mother after breakfast”.

* * *

**A** nthony was perfectly pleased the following day. Informal breakfast had been served for the family and he was reading his paper in front of one of the larger windows. It was too early for Kate to be up, he knew, so he would spend some of his time with his brothers before the embarked on his new quest to assure her of their engagement.

Lord, Anthony was engaged. To a Sheffield. To the right one.

“You were mentioned!” Daphne said running inside the family drawing-room, “Lady Whistledown reports on how utterly smitten you are with dearest Kate!” she cleared her throat, “ _Lord Bridgerton has been seen spending exceeding amounts of time with Miss Sheffield, Miss Kate Sheffield that is, dear reader. There was apparently some kind of incident that involved a bee, Miss Sheffield, Lord Bridgerton and Lady Bridgerton's flower gardens. It has reached this author, that Lord Bridgerton was most distraught at the thought of Miss Sheffield being injured in any way and that she was taken to the family wing for treatment. It is said that they have both been inseparable ever since_ ”.

“It must be nice,” Colin sang, “to have Whistledown on your side”.

“Give me that!” Mother told her immediately, “oh Anthony, this is lovely. Did you bring a ring?”

“Mother ...”

“You cannot marry her!” Gregory screeched, “You do not deserve her!” Anthony ignored how Colin and Benedict clinked their teacups to that.

“Gregory,”

“You do not! You shall hurt her and she shall be miserable. Everybody says so!” He spun and rushed out of the room. Anthony stood up after him.

“Gregory!”

“Let him cool off, Anthony,” his mother said.

Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose as his youngest sister danced into the room, very poorly disguising the fact that she wanted to conceal something with her bizarre movements.

“Hyacinth, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

“Do not lie to me ...” Hyacinth showed him what she had been hiding behind her back. It was a small book, more like a journal, actually.

“Kate took it from Eloise and would not give it back”.

“So you stole it?”

“I did not such thing! I just retrieved it so I could give it back to El”.

“I shall give it to her”.

“No, I got it back!”

“Hyacinth, give me the book”.

Hyacinth handed him the blasted thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what have I learnt? That I can't promise updates by a certain day or life will make sure I can't upload by then. I'm very sorry about the delay.  
> I'm also sorry for the Hamilton reference, it got stuck in my head and I couldn't not write it.  
> Ngl, this chapter has been a pain. I started with an idea, I changed it mid-chapter, and somehow ended up with this macrosomic baby. I hope I reached the expectations you all had.  
> On to work on chapter 9, which I think is going to be fun, there is after all a certain book in the hands of a certain Viscount.


	9. The Room Where It Happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note:
> 
> I would like to use the notes at the beginning of the chapter to address something that was brought to my attention with the previous update and has left a sour taste in my mouth. I would like to apologise to all of you who felt uncomfortable for the ending of chapter 8. It never crossed my mind that Hyacinth finding the journal would be perceived as anything but her being a vector of chaos and drama in this chaotic and dramatic story, but just because it never crossed my mind it doesn't mean it couldn't have been insensitive or hurtful to some of you. I am sorry. The last thing I want is for this story to be upsetting to any of you.

**Chapter 9: The Room Where It Happened**

* * *

**A** nthony took the book and tucked it beneath his arm, before Hyacinth enquired, “Does anybody know why I crossed Gregory looking like he was off on a mission on my way to breakfast?”

“Anthony broke his heart,” Colin said between bites.

“I did not!” Anthony said exasperatedly raising his hands to the air. Mother took the Whistledown paper and left the room, not before kissing Anthony on the cheek and giving him a sympathetic smile.

“What is going on?” Hyacinth asked.

“You are going to have a new sister soon,” Colin told her.

“But I already have three,” she frowned, “and Mama is not even married anymore”.

“Not that way Hyacinth,” Colin chuckled, “ a sister in the same way Simon is your brother,” he added between sips of tea.

“You have finally asked Penelope, then?” she asked. Colin chocked on the tea and it was Anthony's time to chuckle.

“No,” he said drying his face with his napkin, “Anthony is marrying Kate”.

“Why?” Hyacinth's frown turned to him.

“What do you mean “why”? You like Kate!” Anthony said confused. Hyacinth huffed and left the room without eating breakfast. Anthony walked after her as she rushed towards the guest-filled rooms of Aubrey Hall. Anthony saw her scurry through the big doors that opened to one of the more informal dining rooms where breakfast was usually served. Like Kate had predicted the previous day, most of them were intently reading the Whistledown paper that had probably arrived in bulk that morning, and paid him little mind as he looked for his youngest sibling.

Not all of them were utterly focused on gossip, however. He greeted a couple of ladies and a Mama that ambushed him as soon as he entered the room. She was tall, blonde and everything Anthony had learned to run away from when it came to a possible (not really) mother-in-law. Her two daughters, Anthony supposed they were her daughters, were two ends of the same spectrum. One was tall, blonde and with a malevolent copy of her mother's smirk that could rival Cressida Crowper's. The other, shorter and dark of hair, with a pair of big eyes that looked around in constant awe.

Having lost track of Hyacinth, he made quick work of locating Kate in the crowded room like he was getting used to doing, but found she was not in it. Was she still to wake? They did retire quite late for the night, he would admit.

He could see Mother sitting with who he thought was Mrs Sheffield on one of light cream sofas while the older woman in front of him pretended to not notice the way he was ignoring her and her children. To be honest, Anthony got bored of the people of the _ton_ quite easily, never bothering to learn the names of those who didn't spark the slightest interest in him. Anthony didn't know the woman, but the constant acclamation of the blonde girl over the brunette one did very little to appeal to change that fact. Actually, he found to be increasingly tempted to flirt with the younger one just out of spite. It wouldn't be wise, however, knowing that his own engagement would be announced soon enough.

His eyes roamed the room once again, looking for his future wife but found that she was still absent. Not like he had only checked a few minutes before, and, of course, not like his heart jumped in his chest every time he thought he recognised her dark curls.

He looked down at the journal in his hand and pretended to listen to the idle chatter of the three ladies before him. He had the sudden urge to open and read it, but decided against it right after. He had decided he would talk to Mrs Sheffield first, the mystery of the journal could wait. Gods, Anthony really hoped Hyacinth hadn't misheard or misinterpreted whatever exchange she had witnessed between Kate and Eloise. If the one in his hand turned to be Kate's actual journal, he wasn't too sure he wanted to know the contents in it. He wasn't allowed to them in the first place, for Heaven's sake.

People moved around him entering and leaving the room depending on their affairs for the day while he was trapped in the dull conversation. Anthony asked for a saviour in his head.

“Lord Bridgerton,” he heard behind him, “I believe my mother was looking for you”. Edwina Sheffield was a godsent it seemed, and Anthony smiled at her.

“I do have matters to discuss with her,” he answered, “Ladies,” he said as a goodbye and politely stuck his arm out for Edwina.

“I am surprised you managed not to storm off,” she told him.

“I was very close,” he admitted, “your timing was impeccable”. He noted how their conversations had become much more pleasant since he had started courting Kate instead of her.

“Lady Penwood is particularly unpleasant to be around,” she said as they walked to the settee where both of their mothers were dissecting this morning's Whistledown.

Anthony took a deep breath as both women tilted their heads up to look at him. Mrs Sheffield raised one of her eyebrows in a gesture he had come to know as Kate's, her lips slightly pursed as her eyes flickered to her youngest daughter. Mother, on the other hand, appeared incredibly pleased by his arrival in the Guest Wing so early in the morning. He banged the book against his knee before speaking and ignored Edwina's amused stare.

“Mother, Mrs Sheffield,” he addressed them, “I was hoping to have a word with both of you in my study”.

“Right away?” Mrs Sheffield asked, putting the paper away.

“As soon as you are both available”.

“We are free now, are we not, Mary?” his mother said jumping up from the sofa. That woman, anything to have her children married.

“We are,” Mrs Sheffield conceded, and Anthony let go of a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding. Mrs Sheffield stood up and linked her arm to his mother's before he could offer his own. His eyes travelled back to Edwina, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Stop,” he told her pointing at her with the book.

“I thought that was Eloise's,” she answered instead.

“It is, I think, Hyacinth had it”.

“Yes,” she continued, “I gave it to her this morning. Kate was already gone, but I saw where she stored it yesterday night”.

“I thought it might have been hers,” Anthony admitted.

“Kate? Keep a journal?” she laughed, “She lacks the patience. I had my doubts at one point I have to admit. That thing did become an extension of her arm for about a week. I could not for the life of me understand why she kept trying to read the final chapters, pained as she looked every time she did. Some terrible, life-threatening accident for the protagonist is my theory. Not that I would know. Like any other interesting reads that may reach my sister's hands, I am not allowed to read them”.

“You chose the wrong person to complain about protecting their younger siblings, Miss Sheffield,” he said crossing his hands behind his back and bowing.

“Overprotecting!” she complained behind him.

He shook his head as he made his way out of the room. Penelope Featherington was had reached the bottom of the stairs and was reading the latest Whistledown while biting the flesh beside her nails. He was going to let her be, but Colin had been insufferable the past days and she truly wished for him to stop. So instead of heading to his study, Anthony waited.

"My Lord," she greeted him.

"Miss Featherington,” he said in return, “your presence was missed yesterday at luncheon, I hope we will have the pleasure of your company today".

“Oh, of course,” she said with a tense smile.

"Splendid," he said thumping his harm against his side, making Penelope turn her attention to the journal in his hand. Her eyes became big like saucers

"How come you have that book?" she asked him.

“What do you know about this book?” he countered, “Is it yours?”

“No!” she answered, astonished as if he had asked her if she were Lady Whistledown. Whatever did the thing contain that thrilled Eloise, pained Kate and scandalised Penelope? Only one way to find out, he supposed.

“Anthony, dear,” his mother called from the hallway.

“I shall be right there, Mother,” he answered. Then, he turned to Miss Featherington, “I shall see you for family luncheon”.

Anthony walked the short distance to his study and closed the door behind him. His traitorous brain automatically reproduced the scenes of the previous night, and he shook his head and squared his shoulders. He walked to his desk and placed the journal in one of the drawers first, hoping it would give him enough time to push the image of Kate on top of it away. For a moment he pondered if he should sit down, or if the gesture would be perceived as too formal, too serious. Not that he did not take his engagement to Kate seriously. He had the habit of putting furniture in the way whenever he wanted to keep his distance, however, and it was not the impression he wanted to make to Mary Sheffield.

He stepped around the desk and leaned against it. He thought it was much better, that he would look much more approachable. No need to think about the fact that it was the same spot he had pushed Kate against the hours before. In the end, he stood, he shuffled forward until he deemed to be close enough to the older women and fidgeted on his spot as he looked for the right words to say.

“Anthony,” his mother insisted.

“Right, yes”. He pushed the remaining air out of his lungs and drew new air in before crossing his hands on his back and turning to Mrs Sheffield, “Mrs Sheffield”.

“Yes, my Lord?” she asked with a smirk.

“Mrs Sheffield, as you know your daughter Kate and I have been courting the past week”.

“You have been seen courting, correct.” Anthony's mouth opened and closed in what he thought must be quite the accurate impression of a fish. Right, he had made Kate cry just a week ago and then he had been found with his mouth on her chest in his mother's gardens. Just because he had spent his time wooing Kate and ensuring her forgiveness in all matters, it didn't mean her mother had experienced the same change of heart.

“In the time that I have had the privilege to get to know your daughter, I have found a true and dear friend. Mrs Sheffield, I will not lie to you, I doubt grandiloquent words full of even bigger promises would sway the current opinion you hold of me. I am not a liar. I will not stand in front of you and pretend that when balancing some of my words and actions in regards to your daughter, I would not be found lacking. I do, however, swear that I deeply and truly regret every instance in which I have made Kate feel or thought she could be inadequate in any way”.

He took another deep breath before continuing.

“I have only known Kate for a few months, that is true, but in that short period of time, I have seen how she has managed to charm every member of my family with her wit and good heart. I love my family over everything else in this world, Mrs Sheffield, and nothing makes me happier than seeing how attuned she is to them already. It brings me the greatest joy because I know that she will welcome them into our lifes with open arms, without an ounce of selfishness to it. Because that type of kindness and fierce love is what Kate has learnt in her own home, from you and her sister. It is the kind of adoration I could only once hope my wife could have for my children. I have only known Kate for a few months, but I know that she is smart and loyal to her principles. I know she will always help me keep my feet on the ground and my eyes straight ahead. I know she will always tell me the truth. I now know that she is the companion I have never thought I could have”.

Anthony drew a shaky breath.

“I never thought I could have someone like Kate in my life, which is why I have asked you here today. It would be the greatest honour if you would grant me the blessing of her hand in marriage”.

Anthony kept his eyes intently on Mrs Sheffield while she wiped the corners of her eyes. “Do you expect me to accept with my daughter absent?”

“Kate and I have discussed it these past days”.

“Have you?”

“We have, I-” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I proposed last night, actually”. Anthony ignored his mother's elated gasp.

“I assume she said yes.” Mrs Sheffield added.

“She did,” Anthony said looking at his feet and shuffling again. He sensed how she stood up from the chair she had previously occupied and walked until she was standing in front of him.

“You need to understand,” she told him looking straight into his eyes, “she is my little girl”.

“I understand”.

“Good,” she agreed patting his cheek, “you shall do well to remember that when you join the family”.

Anthony's chest puffed up, and he stood a bit taller, “We have your blessing, then?”

“I expect a ring as soon as we arrive in London”.

“Oh, he will have it ready,” his mother interceded with her hands in front of her chest. He took a small step towards her and she strode the short distance between them to hug him tight. “I am very happy for you, dearest”.

Anthony walked out of his study with a Mama linked on each of his arms, only to find Hyacinth and Eloise waiting for him in the hallway. His good mood flew out of the first open window it found. He sent the mothers on their way with one last kiss on his mother's cheek before turning to his sisters

“What do the two of you want?”

“For Hyacinth to leave me alone, but she insisted on bringing me to you,” Eloise said rolling her eyes and walking into the study with Hyacinth close behind. Anthony followed them.

“I guess,” he said opening the drawer while Eloise threw herself on a chair, “that it has something to do with this”. Anthony let the journal fall between them. The reaction from his sister was instantaneous.

“Why do you have that?” Eloise asked suddenly pointedly looking at the book.

“I got it back for you!” Hyacinth beamed to her sister. Eloise turned around horrified.

“Did you read it?” she gasped.

“No!”

“And you expect me to believe that?” Eloise asked.

“I did not!”

“Where did find it, Hyacinth?”

“In a room.”

“In what room?”

“Hyacinth,” Anthony asked, “ I know you went inside Kate's room and took it.”

“I did not take it”.

“Fine, you asked Edwina to give it to you”.

“It belongs to Eloise!”

“Hyacinth, did you read it?” Eloise squealed again.

“No! I told you already!” Hyacinth huffed, frustration evident in her voice, “I heard you yesterday! I heard you when you were talking to Kate. You wanted to play another round with your book and she would not give it back!”

“Why would you not stay out of it?”

“Because this has to do with your guessing game, does it not?” Hyacinth said as if begging to be understood, “I know Kate guessed Mr Renton and I just wanted you to play the other round you wanted! So you could win!”

“You are such a busybody!” Eloise screamed frustrated.

“I am not!” Hyacinth said with tears in her eyes, “if I were I would have read the blasted thing but I have not! You wanted the book and she would not give it back so I brought it for you! Why won't you see, Eloise? Why won't the lot of you see?” Anthony's heart ached as he watched Hyacinth ran from the room.

“I shall have that, Anthony,” Eloise said, her shoulders tense as she stepped in his way and stopped him from chasing after Hyacinth. Now, Anthony considered himself to be an intelligent man, and he was currently quite insulted that his younger sister thought him more slow-minded than Nigel Berbrook.

“No”.

“Anthony I should like to have that back,” Eloise said.

“And I think I should like to read it first,” Anthony took the journal and walked to the hallway ignoring Eloise walking behind him. He had to find Hyacinth and ensure she was alright, and a voice inside him kept whispering that he had to get that done before he submerged in his reading.

“Anthony please, give me the journal,” Eloise pleaded once again, and all of Anthony's worse suspicions got a step closer to confirmation.

“Eloise, do you think me to be some kind of simpleton?” Anthony asked. He grabbed Eloise by the elbow and pulled her further back in the hallway. “Hyacinth walks in having stolen this from the Sheffields' rooms for you, and the only words out of your mouth are whether she has read it or not. Which tells me, dear sister, that whatever is written in here is not for Hyacinth's eyes”. Anthony had had enough of the day and it wasn't even midday. He walked in the direction of one of the informal sitting rooms where he had seen Hyacinth rush through in the morning but turned back to Eloise when he figured another point he could make. “If it is not suitable for Hyacinth's eyes and you gave it to Kate I can only deduce that the foolish game the two of you, along with Miss Featherington, are playing is far more inappropriate than you made us believe. If this were idle gossip, you would not have the urgency to ask for it back. Of course, now it makes sense why Kate didn't want to talk about it the other day, or why Miss Featherington has been avoiding Colin like the plague since you dragged him into it as well. Do stop me whenever I start getting it wrong, dear sister, I beg of you”.

Eloise looked dejected, “Do not be cross with Kate and Penelope,” she murmured.

“Unbelievable, Eloise!” he huffed before schooling his features and walking into the sitting room. Anthony rubbed the side of his face and made a list of priorities: Hyacinth first, the cursed journal second, talking to Kate about the blasted thing third, murdering Eloise fourth (depending on the outcome of numbers two and three). He crossed the parlour with admirable normality before hastening his steps once he was outside of the house.

As it happened, someone else had gotten to Hyacinth before he had. That someone happened to be Kate. They were sitting on one of the stone benches that overlooked the lake. Kate was speaking to her in what Anthony could only imagine was a soft and soothing tone of voice, for their heads were close together and Hyacinth seemed to have calmed down a bit. Kate couldn't see him, but his sister could, which was emphasised when they locked eyes for a moment and Hyacinth hid on the crook of Kate's neck. Sitting next to them on the floor was Gregory. He was leaning back against Kate's knees, his face turned up towards the warm sun. Now, Anthony couldn't hear it, but he knew that his youngest brother must be purring.

“Anthony,” Benedict said behind him, “let them be”.

“I do not know what is happening with Hyacinth.”

“Truly?”

“Pardon?”

“Anthony”.

“What?”

“She just wants to be included”.

“In what?”

“In everything! They were not supposed to come to Aubrey Hall in the first place. When they do Gregory is allowed on his own but she is not. We boys spend our time together or we find someone to spend it with: you either stay in the study or constantly buzz around Kate, I have my painting, Colin divides his time between spending it with Eloise and Penelope and being miserable because Penelope is avoiding him, and Gregory aims to crash all your plans with Kate.”

“She still has the girls!” Anthony exclaimed feeling guilty.

“Anthony, you know that is not true. Daphne spends her time with Simon, Lord knows where Frannie hides and Eloise always lets Hyacinth know how she does not want her around. She is lonely”.

“Then she should be with her siblings”.

“We can organise some games in the afternoon, make it a surprise. She will like that I believe”.

“Yes, you are right,” he mused and turned back towards the house with his brother beside him. “Benedict,” he stated, “I have a favour to ask you”.

“Always ready to serve, big brother”.

Anthony punched him on the shoulder, “Will you be my best man?”

Benedict's face lit up like the sun and he turned his head towards the lake before smiling brightly and hugging Anthony. “Yes, yes of course,” he beamed, “I am very happy for you, brother. I guess the Sheffields will be joining us for luncheon today, then?”

“Yes, they will”.

“Have you talked to Cook?”

“No, can you?” he asked heading back inside.

“Ah, my duties have begun,” Benedict joked, “three more, yes?”

“Four, with Miss Featherington”.

“What about Penelope?” Colin said appearing out of nowhere.

“We need to get him a bell,” Anthony said.

“I shall ask for one”.

“Answer me! What about Penelope?”

“She is coming to luncheon you lunatic!” Benedict snapped.

“Wonderfull!” Colin chuckled and marched towards the kitchen, “I need to make sure they make her eclairs and then I should make sure there is a spot for her between Eloise and me”.

Benedict rolled his eyes and chased after him, “Colin, you should maybe let Miss Featherington be ...”

Anthony walked to his study and closed the door behind him. He took the damned journal and sat on his chair as he scratched his forehead. Maybe he should let it be, give the stupid thing back to Kate. Or Eloise. Maybe even Penelope. He dropped it next to some papers his butler had set on his desk and started reading them, those were more urgent, anyway.

His eyes switched to the small book to his right.

Then back to the papers.

Back to the journal.

Back to the papers.

Oh, who was he trying to trick?

He leaned back on his seat and took the journal in his hands. Most of the pages had been ripped out, which Anthony found odd but didn't question. What was even more curious was that they had been penned, not printed. He browsed through the pages of the journal and distinguished four different authors. There had been another set of pages ripped out in between the third and the last chapter.

Anthony frowned as he turned the pages back to the beginning.

He started to read.

* * *

**W** hen she had awoken that morning, Kate had planned to spend a nice quiet day with her family and friends. She had wished to relish in the warm sun, maybe paint for a while longer, munch on sweets with Penelope and Eloise and stroll around the estate with Anthony. Just a lovely, uncomplicated, wonderful day.

She should have known it would not be the case when she saw Gregory Bridgerton storming out of Aubrey Hall as soon as she had walked down the stairs. Kate's stomach protested as she chased after Gregory, ignoring the no doubt delicious breakfast that had been waiting for her. She grabbed the skirt of her dress in one hand and jogged through the less-used paths around the lake until she reached the willow he had shown her some days prior.

“Gregory,” she addressed him when she reached him. He had his back turned to her, taking the biggest pebbles he could find and hurling them to the water without any intention of making them skip along the surface. He tensed when she called him again, “Gregory”.

“Leave me be, Miss Sheffield”.

“Oh, Miss Sheffield. I do not believe you have never called me that”. He shrugged. “What has you in such a mood?”

“It does not matter, you cannot help me with my pain”.

“I certainly cannot if you keep what is causing it from me,” she answered, taken aback by the seriousness in his voice.

He jumped around and glared at her for a moment before he bit down his lower lip. “You are to marry him,” he mumbled.

“Oh, Gregory ...”

“I just- I knew it was a possibility by the way they all kept gossiping about it. To be honest, I never thought he would have the guts to ask you,” he frowned.

Kate sat on the roots of the Willow tree, “Come sit by me,” she asked him. Gregory walked towards her and sat beside her, leaning against her shoulder.

“He will hurt you,” he declared.

“You do not truly think that”.

“No. I love Anthony, I do. But I also know how stubborn he is, and how much time he spends locked in his study. I mean will you not be completely bored?”

Kate smiled, “You know, some would say I am very stubborn too”.

“Maybe, but that is different”.

“How so?”

“Are you not always right?” he guessed.

“You shall be my favourite brother in law,” she dictated with a giggle. She continued talking when he saw how he bent his head and he started plucking put grass. “Gregory, Anthony is a great man who loves you very much. You know he would never intentionally hurt those he loves. You are too charming for my own good anyway, ”she bumped her shoulder against his. “You will make a very lucky girl very happy one day, and when you do I shall help you secure her favour”.

“I will manage on my own,” he scoffed.

“The offer still stands,” she said getting up and pulling him up with her. She took his cheeks in her hands and softly kissed his forehead.

“If he ever hurts you, even unintentionally, I get to prank him”.

“You may perfume everything in his study with a scent of your choosing,” she conceded, “especially the tobacco”. Gregory laughed, “Now, let us go, I have yet to have breakfast and I am starving”.

They made their way back to the house playing little games on their way. Mary was nowhere to be found when she arrived with Gregory, both of them walking about, filling their plates before the maids cleared the leftover food. Kate could feel the eyes of those present as they followed her around the room. A fresh round of Whistledown gossip was meant to arrive that morning, she remembered, and she must have been mentioned. Her suspicions were confirmed when she found Edwina smirking at her like the cat that had gotten the cream, dancing about with a paper on her hand and hastily telling her that Anthony had taken his mother and their mother to his study and that they had been gone for some time.

Both matriarchs entered the room soon after, and Violet Bridgerton had made a beeline to her and hugged her tight. A thundering whispering match had overtaken the members of the _ton,_ and to Kate's great surprise Lady Bridgerton and Mary had started organising trips to the modiste right away. Reality crashed in like lightning in the big tree in the yard back in Somerset. Kate was getting married. Kate was going to be a Viscountess.

It was suddenly too much. Entirely too much.

Kate left her half-eaten plate on the table and excused herself. Her feet took her towards the lake once again, she had debated going to the gardens, but decided against it, disregarding her love for flowers. The lake harboured better memories when faced with those more stressful ones she had collected in the gardens. She found a stone bench not too far away from the house and sat. She used her thumbs to massage her temples and counted the seconds between breaths in and out.

“Why are you here?” someone said to her right. The youngest Bridgerton stood there with tears in her eyes. Kate's first reaction was to move and comfort her, but then Hyacinth tensed and took a step back from her. Kate hadn't had the chance to get to know Hyacinth like she had the rest of her brothers and sisters, so she didn't really know how to act around here when she was clearly upset.

“Is this your spot?” she asked instead, thinking that the girl could maybe want some space for herself. “I can go if it is”.

“You are never alone. Why are you alone?”

“I just needed a moment for myself, that is all”.

“I have had a lot of those these past days,” Hyacinth snapped.

“I am sorry,” Kate said gently. Something in her tone of voice must have convinced Hyacinth that she was being sincere because she sat next to Kate on the bench. “It is horrible to feel lonely in a house full of people”.

Hyacinth sighed, “Can you talk to me about something else?”

“Would you like to know about the day I got Newton?”

“Your dog?”

“Yes, he is a corgi”.

“I like corgis, they are funny looking”.

“I shall introduce you to him then,” she smiled. “Anyway, the day I was gifted Newton,” Kate started explaining. She made sure to tell every little detail the way she remembered it. At some point, Gregory had strolled down from the house and joined them, wordlessly giving his sister some cookies Kate was sure were supposed to be served after luncheon.

It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Until.

“KAAAAAATE!” Anthony was barreling towards them like a man possessed. What could possibly have gotten into him?

“Oh no,” Hyacinth said next to her.

“Miss Sheffield,” he said once he was in front of them.

“Lord Bridgerton,” she answered not pleased with his tone of voice.

“I need to speak to you in my study,” he huffed and puffed, “now”.

“Is there something wrong?”

“You and I are to have a meeting,”

“Are we?”

“Now, Kate”.

“I thought it was Miss Sheffield once again,” she countered. Whatever had him in a fit would not warrant the kind of behaviour he was displaying. No. Anthony Bridgerton would learn to communicate if it were the last thing she did on this earth.

“Hyacinth,” Anthony asked his tone more even, “I think mother and Mrs Sheffield would love it if Gregory and you collected some flowers for the table”.

“Are you cross with Kate because I tattled about the book?” Hyacinth asked.

“What book?” Gregory interrupted.

“Anthony are you cross with her because I told?”

“No,” Kate answered for him, turning back to her and giving her a small smile. Kate had no idea what was happening, but the only book that could get her future husband in such a state. It was safe back in her room, or so she had thought until minutes before. “I am sure you did nothing wrong Hyacinth,” she told her, “you and Gregory should see about those flowers”:

“Kate,” Anthony said giving her his hand, “please”.

She took his hand and followed him back to the house. Kate couldn't remember the last time silence had been so uncomfortable between them. Still, even with the palpable tension in the air, his touch sent a million little sparks through her skin.

“Anthony?” she asked.

“Not here, Kate,” he answered and pulled her inside his study.

Whatever Kate had been expecting it hadn't been what she had found. Eloise sat in one of the chairs with her eyes full of dread. Penelope was on the bigger settee, sitting straighter than a young girl in an etiquette class, her eyes firmly on the hands she had placed on her lap. Daphne stood to the other side of Eloise, slowly pacing the width of the room at if whatever was about to happen had nothing to do with her. Her husband, thank heavens was not there. Benedict stood up from where he had been sitting on top of the desk.

In the middle of all of them, in the short table placed amongst the sitting space was the journal.

Kate yanked her hand back from Anthony and walked around Eloise to sit beside Penelope. She took her friend's hands on hers and touched Penelope's face so she would look at her.

“Kate,” Eloise's voice quivered on her other side. Kate turned around and smiled at her other friend, while Benedict moved from his previous spot and sat on the arm of the settee. If he were about to throw her out and break their engagement he wouldn't have had most of his siblings in the room, let alone Penelope. No. Anthony had given her his word, in a most peculiar way she would admit, but they had made promises to each other. Benedict moved his leg closer to her and Kate saw Anthony's eyes darken and his hands ball into fists as he walked to be in front of her.

They all tensed when the door to the study opened.

“I was told Pen was here,” Colin said as a greeting, they all ignored him.

“Why were summoned, Anthony?” Kate asked.

“Does the clue in front of you not give you a hint?” he sneered. If that was the tune he desired to dance to, Kate would make sure to guide her feet accordingly.

“I will admit I am curious about how it got out of my privet rooms and ended up in your study”.

“You admit it then, it is yours”.

“I admit it was in my possession until today. I will not admit to it being mine”.

“Whose is it, then?”

“How would I know that?”

“You just said you have had it with you this entire time!”

“Which does not mean I know who wrote it”.

“But you who it is about”.

“The entire thing?” Kate asked, astounded that nobody else had yet to speak.

“Yes, Katharine, the entire thing”.

“No, I do not know that”.

“Lord, she would be such a great solicitor if she were a man,” Eloise whispered to Daphne.

“Right?”

“I assume you have read it?” Kate added.

“Yes,” Anthony affirmed.

“I assume you have theories?”

“I do”.

“Care to share with the rest of us?” Colin interrupted them.

“I think that this,” Anthony said picking the journal up for everyone to see and then placed it back on the table, “is the basis to the twisted game the three of you are playing”.

“That gossip game?” Colin asked.

“What gossip game? The one with sweets involved?” Daphne inquired.

“What do you know about it?” Anthony demanded from Daphne.

“Just that Eloise has been more interested in boys since eclairs are involved, and that Mr Renton is one of them, because-”

“Because Hyacinth heard me when I told Eloise and Penelope,” Kate conceded, “after the first dinner party the day we arrived in Aubrey Hall”.

“After I,” Eloise followed, “bothered Kate about it during luncheon with her present and dragged Colin into it because he is a terrible gossip and I knew he would prod until Kate and Pen yielded”.

“And how would you know that Renton was in it?” Anthony protested, “You admit you read it?”

Penelope crushed her hands in hers. “I admit I read it,” Kate said.

“And then what? You asked around?”

“Have you ever listened to Mr Renton talk around ladies, Anthony?” Benedict interrupted.

“Why would that matter?”

“Because he is a flirt!” Penelope exploded, “he is a complete egomaniac, he can barely wait five minutes before he talks about the mark on his neck that resembles Prussia. Ask the Arcot sisters if you must”.

Anthony grabbed the bottle of brandy by his desk and served a generous glass for himself.

“Anthony,” Daphne said reaching for the journal, “I doubt some mild flirtatious gossip is-”

Anthony stopped her, “It is not mild, and you should not be reading about the performance of other men!”

“Give her chapter two, then,” Kate said incensed, “there is no men in that one”. Anthony chocked on his drink and Penelope squeaked beside her as Kate leaned back on the cushions. “So we found the stupid book and we were trying to figure out who was in it! I am sure it is far tamer than activities you lot have pursued”.

“It is different!”

“Yes!” Eloise said, “because you are men! Everything is different for you!”

Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Where is the rest of it?”

“The rest of it?” Benedict blurted.

“Yes, I remember discussion about the division of chapters. Twelve, to be exact, but then Kate had claimed to have only three chapters and I counted four in the book. So I believe the original number was closer to the fifteen Eloise claimed there were. So. Where are the other eleven?”

“I burnt mine,” Penelope declared.

“Mine are here”. Kate crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“There is one missing”.

“Mine. Are. Here”.

“Eloise?” Daphne croaked placing her hands over her sister's shoulders.

“Mine are at home”.

“AT HOME?”

“I hid them and hid them well. I found the stupid thing that afternoon we spent in Hyde Park with the Irish and took it home, where I divided the chapters equally and gave each their own. My five are hidden at home”.

“Hyacinth could have gotten her hands on them!”

“Hyacinth would not know where to start looking, brother, calm down!”.

“CALM DOWN? She got her hands on these!”

“On accident!” Kate defended.

“Yes! Everything is an accident with you!”

“Yes, that is what it seems like, is it not?” Kate's icy tone cut through the loud talk around them.

“I did not mean it that way, Kate,” Anthony pleaded.

“Maybe we should talk about this later, after we have calmed down”.

“Hyacinth overheard Eloise and Kate talking about it and made her way to their rooms to retrieve it, Daphne, I do not think I can be calm”.

“It is not Hyacinth's fault that you lot have been so immersed in your own shenanigans that she feels she needs to clamor for attention,” Penelope murmured.

“Gregory doesn't do that!” Colin said after being silent for longer than they had all expected them to be.

“Well, Gregory is distracted most of the time”.

“You say she did not read it?” Colin asked Eloise.

“That is what she says”.

“Then I say we should give her the benefit of the doubt and trust her”.

“I still do not understand why you brought it here,” Anthony said approaching Kate, his voice softer than it had been.

“I did not, it was sent to me”.

“By?”

“I do not know!” she sighed, “Someone in the house, one of my maids possibly. I did read it quite a few times”.

“Eager to know all about Renton's mark?” he said before he had schooled his tongue to stop.

“Anthony that is enough,” Benedict barked next to her.

“Of course you would defend them”.

“Since you are being an absolute ass to your fiancé, yes I would”.

“Hyacinth had it, Benedict!”

“Yes! And Eloise found it in the first place and passed it along!”

“He is right Anthony,” she told her eldest brother, “they both told me to drop it over and over again and I insisted”.

Colin tried to lighten the mood, “So, Hyacinth is none the wiser, Eloise got all her eclairs, Penelope burnt all her chapters and we will burn the rest now. No real harm done”.

“It still does not explain why you did not throw them to the fire in the first place like Penelope did,”. Anthony shook his head at Kate.

If Katharine Sheffield were another kind of person, she would in that moment jump up and shout that the only reason Penelope had dropped her papers in the fire was because Colin's name had been in the very first one she had had to read. If Katherine Sheffield was another kind of person she would have admitted that was the reason she had read the nasty thing cover to cover. But then, that would mean exposing Benedict, and that was something Kate never wanted to do.

“I something else in my mind at the time,” she admitted instead.

“Something else?”

“Yes”.

“Whatever could occupy your mind so intently that you forgot to dispose of a journal that could ruin you?”

“Eloise gave them to me at the Trowbridge ball,” she hissed, “I was otherwise preoccupied after that to give them back or to care about them”.

They had reached an impass of sorts as silence settled around them. Kate stood up from her seat ready to leave the stuffy room. Anthony stood in front of her, journal in hand like a peace offering. She took it and he pushed her towards the door so they could have a moment of relative privacy.

“I am sorry”, he confessed, “I did not mean-”.

“Your ten-year-old sister found this, I understand you being angry. Edwina is much older and I never shared it with her. I just hate it when you jump to conclusions and think the worst of me”.

“I do not think the worst of you”.

“You think the worst of everyone,” she sentenced, “but it is something we will have to work on in the future”.

“You are too good to me”.

“I am”.

“I have a lot to make up for, I know, I will. I do, however, have to stay here for a while after you return to London. It has nothing to do with this incident, I promise”.

“All right,” Kate said, not completely convinced.

“I will be better Kate, I promise”. He looked at her with the kind of intensity that confirmed that he was telling the truth. She sighed and he took her hands on his.

Kate handed him the journal back. “You should burn that,” she said tilting her head and kissing his cheek, “but before you do, I think you should read the last chapter,” she whispered in his ear. She locked her eyes on his, “That is why I was keeping it at home, because even if we were at odds with each other at the time, I thought you deserved to know”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAMA, ANTHONY IS BEING AN IDIOT AGAIN!
> 
> All kidding aside. I hate to be constantly late for updates, I really do. I also really hate complaining about how busy my weeks are when I'm sure a lot of you work and/or take care of your families and surely have a lot more to do than me.
> 
> This chapter has been hard to write (I hate saying that too), but I started rewriting the ending of chapter 8 at some point, and work on this update based on that, only to hate everything I had written because I had already been dropping hints here and there that Hyacinth felt lonely and that entire story arc had been scrapped on the rewrite. So, after a lot of thinking, I decided to get rid of the rewrite and stick to the original plan.
> 
> I've also had practical rounds this past to weeks and hospitals are very busy, so I've been asked to stay behind most of the days. That added to my insecurities and anxiety about this chapter, plus my school work ... Well, I've really struggled to write.
> 
> Now that we've had enough of the life update, let's talk about the chapter, shall we? First of all, it was supposed to be longer than it is. I know. I cut a bit of the last scene short (I'll probably post it on Tumblr tomorrow) and there was supposed to be an engagement announcement in Aubrey Hall like in the book, and Kate and Anthony were supposed to dance, and there were supposed to be fluffy times, and Simon was supposed to have the time of his life teasing Anthony -I'm not kidding, I've had that in my notes for at least the last three chapters and Simon never gets to tease Anthony which is tragic. So what happened? You see, it's almost 4 am and the chapter is already 7k long, so I gave up. There's probably some typos (there always are, Grammarly never corrects them all the first time for some reason), that I will correct before the next update.
> 
> Instead, we will reconvene in London, after Anthony visits the Sheffield's house and we will get all the good stuff we were supposed to get in this chapter in another ball. Plus, some forgotten faces. Maybe. (Evil laugh)
> 
> In other news: I'm working on a Polin prompt that looks like it's going to be a two-chapter, the modern AU is begging me to give it some attention, and I still have a ton of fics to write for the Tumblr promp-list. Ring Out The Bells is my priority, but I sometimes need a palate cleanser in between chapters.
> 
> I've you've reached the end of this rant: 1) WOW, 2) Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should clarify that this was supposed to be 5 one-shots that filled the gaps of "The Viscount Who Loved Me". Then one of the chapters was too long and I had to add a couple of more chapters to the global of the story. Now it has plots and subplots and OCs and all these different elements and I don't know how long this will be, tbh.
> 
> English isn't my first language, so apologies if something isn't written right, I am happy to change it if anyone lets me know :) 
> 
> Tumblr:
> 
> [@msstarhallow](http://msstarhallow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Where I shitpost and rant and all that good stuff (I'm active again and I just love the Bridgerton community over there! It's also the most direct way to contact me (If you'd like to do that for some reason), so yeah)!  
> 
> 
> Comments and feedback are always appreciated!!  
>  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway!  
>  Lots of love!


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